Chapter IX: Part 9

"That's more like you, Kargopol," returned Lieutenant Casimir Andreitch Borisoff. The cloud had indeed cleared like magic from the captain's round, jovial, somewhat rubicund face; evidently he was not a man on whom ill-temper sat long or heavily.

"The truth is, I am becoming a little uneasy. Isn't there something in the Scriptures about hunting after a dead dog, after a flea? I confess I'd rather stick to our proper work, and smash Oyama instead of running after this Ah Lum and his Chunchuses."

"Yes, confound the fellow! He's as agile as the little unmentionable fellow you were beguiled into naming, though by all accounts he's more like a live lion than a dead dog. That fight of his was a masterly piece of work."

"I only wish we could get to grips with him. Here have I been for weeks--months--on the hunt, and haven't so much as sighted a bandit. Hi there! Ivan Samsonitch, ask the Chinaman how far it is to this precious village."

The trooper addressed, riding beside a burly Chinaman twenty paces ahead, translated the question into a barbarous mixture of Chinese and pidgin Russian. The Chinaman, whose legs as he bestrode his little pony almost touched the ground, bowed humbly upon the animal's neck, and barked a reply.

"He says, little father," said the sergeant, translating, "that Pai-chi-kou is about seven li farther; that is four versts; but there is a river to be forded."

"Another river! That makes a round dozen since we started. And the water's icy cold, confound it!"

The captain had drawn up to the sergeant; only to him and the Chinaman was his mild grumble audible. The sergeant was a man of responsibility with whom he could to a certain extent unbend; the men must hear no complaints. For nine hours the detachment of 150 Cossacks had marched up hill and down dale over tracks slippery with frost, wading streams that in another month would be deeply coated with ice. Their progress was hampered by the necessity of watching and assisting the heavily-laden pack-mules that formed the major part of the column. Their destination was the village of Pai-chi-kou, where they were to be joined by the larger force for which they were carrying ammunition and supplies. As verst succeeded verst, the captain thought, and said to Lieutenant Borisoff, hard things of the transport officer who had drawn out the itinerary. The want of good service maps was a terrible disadvantage. Once the detachment had lost its way altogether; and only after an hour had been spent in futile search was a countryman opportunely discovered and pressed into the service as guide. The man was very unwilling to act; he protested his wish to go in an entirely different direction, to a village where his grandfather awaited burial rites. But Captain Kargopol had had enough dealings with Chinamen to regard this grandfather as an oriental Mrs. Harris; he turned a deaf ear to the man's protests, and was unmelted by his facile tears. Under his guidance the troops had trudged along, the men bearing the fatigues of the march with the fine cheerfulness of the Russian soldier, breaking out every now and then into song, their rich voices ringing out gloriously in the clear, frosty air.

The twelfth river was waded, only one of the mules losing its footing and submerging its load. Shortly afterwards, just as dusk was falling, the column arrived at a long, straggling village.

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

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

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

The street was crowded with Chinese men, women, and children, making a terrible din with gongs, drums, and crackers. The guide explained that a great number of people had come into the village to keep the annual Dragon-boat Festival; if the Russians had arrived a little earlier they would have seen the river covered with long, narrow, gaily-painted boats paddled by crews of twenty in fantastic costumes, the banks thronged with onlookers.

"A pity we missed it, Borisoff," said the captain. "However, I'm glad we have arrived safely at last."

If Captain Kargopol had known a little more about Chinese customs, he would certainly have asked why in this village the Festival--a summer festival held on the fifth day of the fifth moon--was being celebrated four months after the proper time. Moreover, it is only celebrated where the rivers are broad; on a hill stream the procession of boats must be a mere travesty. But the captain could hardly be expected to know that.

The captain rode up to the only inn, where the one habitable room was crammed with Chinamen. After a short colloquy with the innkeeper these natives were unceremoniously bundled out into the courtyard; the captain had declared his intention of occupying the room with Lieutenant Borisoff for the night. He then sent his sergeant to find quarters for the troopers in the village. The man reported that every house was full up.

"Then we must empty them," said the captain, who was tired and grumpy. "Make the Chinese turn out. The men have more need of rest than they."

This was unanswerable, if illogical. The sergeant went to do his bidding, and soon the street was noisier than ever, the dispossessed Chinamen in scattered knots cackling away in their high-pitched voices, some of them weeping, and crowding to suffocation the few houses that were not required by these masterful foreign devils.

With military punctiliousness Captain Kargopol set a strong guard at each end of the village, arranged for the single street to be patrolled, and the inn to be watched by a sentry; then threw himself on the k'ang with a weary sigh, and prepared to eat, if not digest, the meal which the innkeeper soon had ready for his guests. It was quite clear that, though the Chinamen had all been turned out, some had ventured to creep back into the passage and a sort of shanty adjoining the room. The innkeeper kow-towed and apologized; he hoped the honourable officer would not object to the men occupying this shelter for the night; they had paid their scot in advance, and if he did not give them house-room he would have to refund the money and pay compensation in addition.

"Poor wretches!" said the captain to Borisoff. "We're pretty hard on them at the best. They won't interfere with us, I suppose, unless they snore; and even then, I fancy I'm so dead beat I could sleep through anything."

When the officers had finished their supper, they wrapped themselves in their cloaks, and lay, Captain Kargopol on the k'ang, the lieutenant on the floor. Though the inn was now quiet, and the troopers were no doubt sleeping as soundly as their superiors, it was evident from the sounds proceeding from the houses that the Chinese were wakeful, possibly through the excitement of their festival.

Towards midnight, under the shelter of a low shed not far from the inn, where they crouched for protection from a biting north wind, two Chinamen were talking in low tones. One was the guide who had so reluctantly accompanied the Russians; the other a much younger man. All at once, out of the darkness crept a short Chinese boy, looking fatter than he was by reason of his thickly wadded clothes. He came to the younger of the two men, and addressed him in an excited whisper. To anyone who overheard him it would have been clear that he had been hiding, according to instructions, in the inn. He said that he had overheard a conversation between Hu Hang and C'hu Tan, who were among the Chinamen in the shanty. He had seemingly heard more than was expected. The ex-constable and Ah Lum's ex-lieutenant were going to seize and gag the innkeeper, and then to waken the Russian officers and give them an important piece of information. The howl of a dog outside the village was to be the signal for carrying this plan into effect. They had said that between the first howl and the second there would be plenty of time for what they meant to do.

"Hai-yah!" growled the larger of the two listeners, following up the exclamation with an oath. The other made no comment on the news he had just heard, but, turning to the boy, he said rapidly:

"Run and tell Pai Ting there are to be two howls, not three. What was to have been the first will now be the second. The signal will be given as soon as the moon goes down behind yonder clump of trees. You understand?"

The boy nodded, and without a word crept away, wriggling down a narrow passage between the shed and the next house towards the outskirts of the village.

As soon as he had gone, the two men rose quietly and went into the street. Dodging the patrol, they hurried to the inn, passed to the rear, and cautiously made their way into the shanty or lean-to. There were several Chinamen in the stuffy den, to all seeming fast asleep; but a close observer might have noticed that the entrance of the new-comers was at once remarked, and that, as they passed by or actually stepped over the recumbent forms, they were the object of a keen scrutiny. The inspection appeared to satisfy the men, for they at once resumed their attitude of complete repose.

To any but ears keenly alert the progress of the two men would have been inaudible; for there was a constant noise from the courtyard and a large open space behind the inn, where the greater number of the ponies of the convoy were picketed under a Cossack guard. A Cossack was also doing sentry-go in front of the inn, but approaching from the back the two Chinamen had avoided him.

When they came in sight of the main room they exercised the extremest caution. The door was but half-closed, and through the opening came the faint yellow light of a small oil-lamp. Coming to a spot whence they could see the greater part of the interior, they halted, and peeped within. Near the door they could just make out the forms of three Chinamen huddled on the floor--doubtless the innkeeper, and the two men whose little plot the boy had overheard and reported. The Russian officers had apparently been too much fatigued to resent this invasion of their privacy.

Waiting merely to get a mental photograph of the position in the room, the younger of the two Chinamen moved gently backward, and, touching one of the dormant figures on the shoulder, beckoned him towards the back door. Then he whispered an instruction. The man was to enter the room, boldly but not aggressively, and summon the innkeeper to join Wang Shih at the house of the village headman. This was but a move in the game shortly to be played out. The two conspirators would doubtless be relieved to find themselves--by a lucky accident, they would suppose--free from the presence of the innkeeper; it would no longer be necessary to dispose of him; at the same time they would be reassured as to the whereabouts of Wang Shih. The man crept in as directed. His entrance caused the captain to stir.

"What is it?" he growled.

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

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

He then turned over, and was instantly oblivious. The innkeeper, coming out, was surprised to find Wang Shih at the door, but was warned by that burly man's younger companion not to open his lips.

He had scarcely left the room before one of the two Chinamen lying within the room began to wriggle towards the officers. The other man, none other than Hu Hang, once a constable, now a disappointed Chunchuse, bent forward, intent upon his companion's progress. At a hint from the younger of the two watchers, the elder, Wang Shih himself, slipped into the room and stood silent and unnoticed behind Hu Hang.

The creeping Chinaman came first to Lieutenant Borisoff, stretched on the floor. He nudged him; the Russian grunted. A second gentle nudge provoked another grunt. Then the officer awoke with a start, and seeing by the dim light a Chinaman bending over him, he instinctively felt for and grasped the revolver beneath the cloak that formed his pillow. The Chinaman held up his hands to show that he wras unarmed.

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

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

"What is it?" asked the lieutenant, raising himself on his elbow. "Tell me quickly, and be sure you tell me the truth, or----"

There was an ominous movement of the revolver. He touched Captain Kargopol's foot, and that officer, awake in an instant, sat up on the k'ang and looked about him.

"This village is not Pai-chi-kou, honourable nobility. It is Ta-kang-tzue. The Chinamen here are all Chunchuses. Very soon honourable master will hear the howl of a dog. It will not be the voice of a dog, but of a man. It is a signal. Ah Lum's men are outside. At the signal they will surround the village."

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

"Afterwards another howl," continued the informer. "The Chunchuses in the village will seize rifles and pistols hidden in the gardens and pig-sties. Afterwards a third signal; every house with Russians in it will be attacked, every honourable soldier captured or killed."

The captain rapped out an oath. The Chinaman, still on his knees, lifted up his hands and spoke earnestly.

"I can show the honourable nobility how to cheat them; honourable master will reward his humble slave. Is it not so?"

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

"At the first howl, master will cut a hole in the window--quickly, so that the men in the passage hear nothing; they are all Chunchuses. He will whisper to the sentry outside; the soldier will warn the patrol, and they will in haste make the round of the houses where soldiers are. Before the second signal is given, honourable master's men will be ready; they can shoot down the Chunchuses in the village, and Ah Lum will have to retreat, for honourable nobility's countrymen are only ten miles away."

For a moment the captain gazed doubtfully at the man.

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

The long-drawn howl of a dog as if baying the moon rose and died away at some distance from the village. The officers started.

"Trap or not, we can't go far wrong in doing what he says. Even if he is lying we are no worse off."

"Honourable nobility's servant asks fifty ounces of silver for----"

"By and by, by and by. Your story must be proved. It sounds likely enough----"

"You are quite right, your nobility," said another voice in good Russian. "It is more than likely; it is literally true."

As the figure of a young Chinaman advanced from a dark part of the room, the startled officers backed and cocked their revolvers; the informer, turning a sickly green under his yellow skin, stared mouth agape at the speaker; while, from the corner where the man's fellow-conspirator had been waiting, the sound of a choking gurgle showed that Wang Shih was busy with his old friend the constable.

The scene in the dimly-lit room was one not likely to be soon forgotten by the actors in the drama.

While the two officers stood fingering their weapons in amazed irresolution, and the wretched traitor leant for support against the k'ang, the new-comer continued:

"What this man says, gentlemen, is perfectly true, so far as he knows. But he doesn't know all. Before you do anything rash allow me to explain. The howl you have just heard was the second, not the first signal. Ah Lum's men have already surrounded the village, and eighty men inside are prepared to rush the quarters occupied by your troops. The inn is watched; the slightest commotion here will be the third signal."

The news was in itself sufficient to provoke the deepest wrath, but the coolness with which the explanation was given enraged the captain beyond all bounds. Springing forward with an oath he cried, "I will risk it!" and snapped his revolver within a foot of the Chinaman's head.

There was no report.

"It is fortunate for you, sir, that we drew the charges while you slept. But for that, your fate and that of your men would have been sealed. If you will give me your word of honour not to make a sound, I will give you ocular proof of what I have said. Believe me, it is only to save your detachment from annihilation. But you shall judge."

The officer, pale and quivering with rage and chagrin rather than fear, threw a glance at Lieutenant Borisoff, who nodded.

"Agreed," said Kargopol fiercely.

Going to the door, the Chinaman said a few words to those outside. They rose and stood, fully armed, in the passage.

"They are Chunchuses, you observe, sir; not peaceful countrymen, as you believed, but the men you are hunting. We will pass outside. Be careful not to alarm your Cossacks."

They passed by the row of silent Chinamen out into the street. The officers were saluted by the sentry, who supposed them to be making the rounds. They came to the largest house in the village. In front, on the street, nothing was to be seen. But at the back, and in a dark passage-way at the side, were at least twenty dim figures, armed at all points with rifle, pistol, and dagger. The silent group passed to another house, and to yet another; at each, cunningly placed out of sight of the patrol, Chunchuses lurked, awaiting the signal for the terrible work of the night.

"We have but a few minutes, gentlemen, before the signal. Are you satisfied? Nothing stands between your men and extermination, save yourselves. What is your decision?"

The captain bit his moustache.

"Let things take their course," said Borisoff quietly. "We had better die fighting than be tortured to death after surrender."

"I can promise you and your men good treatment as prisoners of war--always supposing your general is willing to exchange you for our men, and does not hang any more of ours in the meantime. You need not fear torture."

The Russians laughed grimly.

"What are your assurances worth--you, a Chunchuse?"

"A Chunchuse--yes, Captain, but in this case also an Englishman."

"An Englishman!" cried Kargopol with a start of surprise. Borisoff stepped nearer to Jack and peered into his face.

"An Englishman, sir."

"And a Chunchuse?"

"A Chunchuse, by compulsion of your countrymen. But, gentlemen, we waste precious time. In a few seconds the matter will be beyond your discretion--or mine."

The captain stopped and faced the speaker. Borisoff's face wore a look of perplexity.

"You give me your word?" said Kargopol after a moment.

"Yes."

"As an Englishman?"

"As an Englishman."

"Then I surrender."

"Believe me, sir, it is the wisest, the most humane course."

"Your name is Brown?" said Borisoff suddenly.

"Ivan Ivanovitch Brown, Lieutenant Borisoff."

"Batiushki! I was puzzled by something familiar in your voice. What in the world----"

"Pardon me, the situation is still full of danger, a spark may fire the train. I will explain everything afterwards."

Peering into the dark, Jack in a moment beckoned to a small figure crouching under the shelter of a wall. Hi Lo came bounding up, and to him Jack gave a rapid order. The boy sped away at full speed.

"I have told him that the third signal is not to be given. I hope he may be in time."

*CHAPTER XX*

*The Battle of Moukden*

Reservations--The Cupboard--Perfidious--"The Little More"--Winter Quarters--More Perfidy--Russians Concentrating--Captured Maxims--A Missing Messenger--The Battle Ground--Nogi dashes North--Hemmed In--Nogi cuts the Railway--The North Road--A Carnival of Blood

"You have sold us completely, Ivan Ivanovitch," said Borisoff as they walked back towards the inn. "I suppose that rascally guide of ours led us into this trap."

"All's fair in war, you know. He is Wang Shih, Ah Lum's principal lieutenant."

"He deserves to be hanged!" growled the captain. "So do you, Mr. Brown."

"We seldom get our deserts, Captain. But I think Lieutenant Borisoff had better make a round of the houses and tell your men of the surrender. I will send word to our man outside bidding him keep his Chunchuses in hand for the present. In a few minutes I will rejoin you at the inn."

As the lieutenant visited house after house he recognized how hopeless resistance would have been. At the given signal every dwelling would have been rushed, and before the Cossacks could have realized what was happening they must have fallen to a man. The crestfallen troops were paraded and disarmed in the street; then by the light of flares the convoy was got ready, and an hour and a half later it set off from the village up the hillside, escorted by the Chunchuses, to join Ah Lum some fifteen miles away. Jack stood at the door of the inn beside Captain Kargopol as the convoy and prisoners filed past. Nearly a hundred pack-mules heavily laden with ammunition, winter clothing, and provisions, and a hundred and fifty Cossacks, formed the prize of his ingenuity.

Several mules and their loads were left behind for the benefit of the villagers who had assisted in the plot.

"You had better hide them," said Jack to the headman. "There is a large Cossack force only ten miles away: they may be down upon you at any moment."

He learnt later that hardly were the last of the ponies and their loads secured in caves and hollows among the hills when, shortly after dawn, a squadron of Cossacks galloped up--the advance guard of the twelve hundred men whom Captain Kargopol was to have joined with his convoy. The commander was furious when he heard the news, told him with much sympathy by the headman, who reserved none of the details save only the participation of the villagers. Finding the track followed by the Chunchuses, the commander sent a galloper back with the news and himself pushed on in pursuit. But after three hours' hard riding his squadron was effectually checked by a handful of men in a defile, and by the time he had received sufficient support to force the pass the convoy had reached Ah Lum's encampment, and nothing but a battle could recover it.

During the northward march Jack rode between Captain Kargopol and Lieutenant Borisoff. They were eager for the promised explanation of his partnership with brigands. Jack had already made up his mind to be chary of details. He would give no hostages to fortune in the shape of information that might be used against him later; nor would he say anything about the friends whose assistance had been so valuable to him. Of Gabriele Walewska and the missionary, of Herr Schwab and the compradore's brother, he therefore said never a word. The gist of his explanation was that, being uncertain and suspicious in regard to his father's fate, he had resolved to stay in the country, and found that he could only do so safely in disguise. This being penetrated by Sowinski's acuteness, he had perforce taken refuge with Ah Lum, one of whose lieutenants was an old friend of his.

"That rascally guide of ours, I suppose," said Borisoff. "Well, it happens that I can give you a little information----"

"About my father?'

"No, I know nothing about him. A few weeks ago a curious thing happened to that fellow Sowinski, a man I loathe. Kuropatkin received a telegram from Petersburg asking for particulars of the charges brought against your father, and for information as to his whereabouts. Your Foreign Office had apparently been making enquiries. Kuropatkin knew nothing about it, of course; after some delay he discovered that Bekovitch had dealt with the matter. Bekovitch produced a number of letters found in your father's office conclusively showing that he had been in treasonable correspondence with the Japanese----"

"That's a lie!" said Jack.

"Well, there were the letters," said Borisoff with a shrug. "Kuropatkin asked if there was any independent evidence. Bekovitch at once sent Sinetsky for Sowinski. He couldn't find the man, and though he left an urgent message he didn't turn up. So he went to his house again early next morning. There was nobody about, the door was wide open, and he walked in. The house was empty, but he thought he heard a strange rustling in a big press in the dining-room; Sowinski had appropriated your house, by the way. He opened the door, and there was the Pole, gagged, tied hand and foot, and nearly dead from exhaustion. Sinetsky cut him loose; the poor wretch couldn't speak for half an hour, his tongue was so much swollen. He'd been tied up by a Chinese servant, it appeared, though the job must have taken more than one man."

"Yes--I was the other."

"You!" The officers laughed heartily. "You're a perfect demon of ingenuity, Ivan Ivanovitch. Why didn't he say it was you?"

"He had his reasons, I suppose. What happened then?"

"He went to Kuropatkin and swore to all manner of things against your father. The information was telegraphed to Petersburg, and that's all I know about it."

"But where is my father?"

"I don't know. Bekovitch didn't know, or professed he didn't. I fancy he had taken care not to know, in case any unpleasant questions were asked."

"But someone must know. Confound it, Lieutenant, is the whole Staft a conspiracy of silence?"

"It appears that Bekovitch sent your father to Kriloff, and Kriloff is dead. I suppose enquiries were made, but so far as I know nothing has come to light."

"I never heard of such villainy!" said Jack, his indignation getting the better of him. "I had always believed the Russian officer was a gentleman."

"Oh, come now!" said Captain Kargopol, "you English haven't a monopoly of the virtues. You can't throw stones, after the dirty trick your government has played us."

"What do you mean?"

"You haven't heard? I forgot: I suppose your Ah Lum doesn't subscribe to the _Manchurian Army Gazette_. The Baltic Fleet was attacked by British torpedo-boats in the North Sea; Admiral Rozhdestvenski very properly fired and sank one or two. Some trawlers got in the way and were rather knocked about: unfortunately a few men were killed, and your canting press of course set up a howl and clamoured for war. But it's we who are the injured party: you may be the ally of Japan, but that's no excuse for an unprovoked attack on our fleet."

"Really, Captain, pardon me, but the story's absurd. When did this torpedo attack take place?"

"At night, of course; you don't suppose they'd dare to attack battleships in broad daylight."

"Then depend upon it there was a mistake. Someone was scared by the sight of a trawler. It's ridiculous to suppose that our government sent torpedo-boats on such a silly errand as that."

"Well, they might have hired Scandinavian boats, to save their face."

Jack repressed a smile. It was evidently of no use to argue with the captain.

"Time will show," he said. "By the way, Mr. Wang," he added, seeing the Chunchuse a few paces away, "what did you do with Hu Hang?"

"I am very sorry, sir," said Wang Shih with a look of sincere penitence. "It was quite a mistake--I was excited, and I squeezed too hard."

"You strangled him?"

"Yes. It is a pity--a great waste. I fear the chief will be angry. Hu was a strong man--he would have lasted for days."

"Oh!"

Understanding what he meant, Jack thought it just as well. He doubted whether his influence with Ah Lum and the band would have been enough to preserve the informer from the most gruesome and lingering tortures Chinese inventiveness could devise.

"And what became of Ch'u Tan?"

"He stabbed himself."

"Anticipating a worse fate," Jack explained to the officers.

"We are aware of our good fortune in falling into your hands, Ivan Ivanovitch," said Borisoff gravely; "and if, when we are rescued, I can do anything----"

"Thanks, Lieutenant! I don't owe much to the Russians," he added bitterly, "my father less. When he is righted I shall hope perhaps to pick up my old friendships again."

Towards the close of the day the convoy reached Ah Lum's mountain fastness. The chief's little eyes gleamed when he saw the great haul made by his son's tutor.

"You are bold enough to stroke a tiger's beard," he said. "Where there is musk, there will of course be perfume."

The supplies captured were very welcome. Ah Lum had found it necessary to lie low, to avoid the forces on the hunt for him. But after a few days he learnt that the troops from the Korean frontier had been recalled, and the only Russian column now in the mountains was nearly a hundred miles away. He could therefore afford to live on his gains for a time.

The band settled down to a period of quiet camp life. The Cossacks were distributed over the settlement and carefully guarded. Jack proceeded with the education of Ah Fu, and the further training of his men. There was considerable competition among the Chunchuses for enrolment in his corps; he was looked upon as lucky, a special favourite of heaven. For himself, he regarded his position differently. Harassed with anxiety as to his father's fate; among uncongenial surroundings; an exile, without anyone to confide in as a friend; he felt anything but lucky. As week after week passed he grew terribly weary of his life; winter had settled down upon the hills; the snow lay inches thick, and even the warm clothing captured from the Cossacks--the fur caps, thick gray overcoats, felt-lined boots, ear gloves, and what not--proved but insufficient protection against the intense cold. He volunteered for what active work was going; but there was little, and he did not covet the command of any of the parties that went out from time to time to replenish the larder. Ah Lum was punctilious in giving receipts for the supplies he requisitioned from the country people, but Jack felt that they were little likely to be paid for: it was a mere form at the best. And the villagers could ill afford the contributions demanded, though after all they were better off than their countrymen living in the main current of the war. To all except the few merchants and contractors, who made huge profits by supplying the rival armies, the war had brought blank ruin.

Occasionally news of the progress of the war filtered through the country. Jack learnt that Admiral Alexeieff, after continual wrangling with Kuropatkin, had been recalled; that the combatants had gone into winter quarters on opposite sides of the Sha-ho, both Russians and Japanese living in dug-outs, called by the Russians _zemliankas_; that Port Arthur was still holding out, though from Chinese reports it seemed inevitable that the end must soon come; that fresh troops were continually arriving from Europe. One day a dirty copy of the _Manchurian Army Gazette_ was brought into the camp; the Chinese are always loth to destroy anything written or printed. The most interesting item of news it held for Jack, and one on which he had a battle-royal of argument with the Russian officers, was the statement that the _Ocean_, a British battleship on the China station, had been sold to the Japanese, and would appear in the next naval fight as the _Yushima_, which the Russians declared had been sunk by a mine while blockading Port Arthur. Captain Kargopol stoutly maintained that this was another instance of British perfidy, and came very near to losing his temper when Jack refused to take the report seriously, and bantered him on his anti-British prejudice.

At last, one bright cold January day a Chinaman came in with the news that Port Arthur had fallen. Jack could not but sympathize with the captive officers. Personally they were the best of comrades; their distrust of England did not alloy the cordiality of their relations with Jack; and their air of hopeless dejection was distressing to one who bore neither to them nor to their nation any enduring ill-will.

A few days afterwards Ah Lum learnt that the Russian column which had been watching him had suddenly decamped. The inference was obvious. The fall of the great fortress had released a large number of Japanese troops, and Kuropatkin was concentrating against the forward movement now to be expected. This information had considerable importance for Ah Lum. He had been canvassing the desirability of moving towards Kirin, leaving only a small force in the hills to watch the Russians. Their sudden retreat, however, caused him to change his plan. He resolved to follow them. There was more chance of safety for him if he kept to the hills within a few marches of the combatant armies than if he was completely isolated and likely to be cut off by several mobile columns operating against him. It was hardly likely that the Russians would now spare any troops from the fighting line to interfere with him. He was only a mosquito after all, though his sting had more than once proved extremely irritating. His only concern was to be near enough without being too near. In the last resort he could go over to the Japanese; but he disliked the Japanese only less than the Russians, and preferred to keep aloof. It would be time enough to approach the Japanese when they were well on the road to Harbin and the area of his possible operations became more restricted.

The camp was therefore struck. By easy marches the band came to within eighty miles of Moukden. Then, having made complete arrangements for the approach of any Russian force to be signalled to him from point to point, Ah Lum encamped and awaited a favourable opportunity of cutting across the Russian line of communications.

To none was the change of scene more welcome than to Jack. He had been worrying for some time past at the absence of news from the compradore; that he had sent no message made Jack fear that the man had returned to Moukden and been made to suffer by Sowinski or General Bekovitch for his young master's escape. Growing more and more restless, disappointed also that no news of his father had been gleaned by any of Ah Lum's agents in different parts of the country, he at last made up his mind to venture once more into Moukden. It was necessary to ask leave of Ah Lum; and Jack, in his present state of mind, was not disposed to be fobbed off with maxims and proverbs.

As he expected, the chief looked very solemn and endeavoured to dissuade him from his purpose.

"It is like a blind fowl picking at random after worms," he said. "It is like attempting to carry an olive on the pate of a priest. You have already had a very narrow escape. You may not be so fortunate next time."

"I must insist, Mr. Ah," said Jack. "Anything is better than suspense."

"I will send a man for you. A wise man never does himself what he can employ another to do for him."

"Yes; but if one will not enter a tiger's lair, how can he obtain her whelps?"

He cited the proverb with the utmost gravity. Ah Lum was taken aback. Were his own maxims to be turned against him? He pondered for a moment.

"All things are according to heaven," he said with a resigned air. "Still, I will send a man with you; let him go before you into Moukden; then you must act as you think best on receipt of information. To die or to live is according to fate."

When it became known in the camp that Jack, or Sin Foo as he was there known, was about to leave, many of the Chunchuses were eager to accompany him. He found his popularity, and the extraordinary belief in his luck, rather embarrassing. He thanked these willing volunteers, but declined their company: Hi Lo and the man selected by Ah Lum were to be his only attendants.

Soon after dark on a bitter February night Jack, with his two companions, rode up to the farm of Wang Shih's people, some fifteen miles from Moukden. They were overjoyed to see him, and to hear news of their son and brother. Old Mr. Wang, when he learnt that his son was now Ah Lum's chief lieutenant, rubbed his hands with delight and foretold that he would die a mandarin. It would not be the first time in the history of China that a successful brigand had been bought back to the cause of law and order by the bribe of high official rank. Mrs. Wang was garrulous about a second visit paid them about Christmas-time by Monsieur Brin, who had consoled himself for his failures as a war correspondent by studying Chinese social arrangements at first hand. The simple folk readily agreed to put Jack up for a few days; it would have been impossible to find more comfortable quarters during his period of waiting.

Next morning Ah Lum's man went into Moukden. By mid-day he had returned. The compradore had never been seen in the city since he left for Harbin on the morning of Jack's departure. But the Chunchuse agent Me Hong had learnt one trifling fact about Mr. Brown; he was surprised that his chief was still in ignorance of it. The English merchant had been seen and recognized among a gang of convicts at Kuan-cheng-tzue. Me Hong had sent off the news at once by a messenger to Ah Lum; the runner had vanished. He had not returned to Moukden; certainly he had never reached the Chunchuse camp. Sowinski was still in the city; so, the messenger believed, was the "Toitsche war-look-see man"; but there were so many of the fraternity living in Moukden that he was not sure that his information on that point was correct.

He brought other news. Another great battle was evidently impending. The Japanese had for weeks been steadily pushing forward. They had cut the railway-line south of Moukden; two regiments of their cavalry had crept round the Russian left, and had been seen within a few miles of Harbin; and it was reported among the Chinese that Generals Nogi and Oku were preparing a great turning movement on the right. The city was full to overflowing with refugees; many were streaming northward; the Russo-Chinese bank had packed up its chests and decamped; and the Chinese viceroy was in a terrible state of anxiety for the safety of the palace and the ancient tombs of the Manchu emperors.

This news almost tempted Jack to venture again within the city. But on second thoughts he decided to run no risks of meeting Sowinski. The imminence of another great battle, however, perhaps to prove the decisive battle of the war, created a keen longing to witness the scene; and next day, taking leave of his kind hosts, he set off with Hi Lo for a little village lying between the Moukden railway-station and Sin-min-ting. Hi Lo had relatives there with whom they could safely stay.

The battle-ground was in essentials a repetition of that of Liao-yang, though on a much larger scale. The Russians had thrown up an immense line of entrenchments extending in a rough semicircle from Sin-min-ting on the north-west of the city to Ping-ling on the east, with Moukden as the centre. Comprising a range of low hills for the greater part of its course, the position was naturally strong, and it had been fortified for months with all the devices known to the military engineer--pits, abattis, barbed-wire entanglements, forts of solid masonry bristling with huge guns. Snow lay upon the ground, frozen so hard that the passage of cavalry across it raised clouds of white dust. The plain to the west and south of the city was one vast whiteness: yet that peaceful scene was the arena on which three-quarters of a million of men were preparing to spill their blood in blind obedience to duty--to contend with desperate earnestness in one of the decisive battles of the world.

The Russian right wing was composed of the Second Manchurian Army under General Kaulbars, resting on an arc between Sin-min-ting and Moukden. The centre, south of the city, was held by General Bilderling with the Third Army; the left, thrown out as far south-east as Tsin-khe-chen, was entrusted to General Linievitch and the First Army. It was here that the first attack was made. On February 19 General Kawawura threw his right flank detachment against the Russian works, and, after a fight prolonged over five days, drove the Russians back towards Fa-ling. Meanwhile General Kuroki moved forward upon Kao-tu-ling, and succeeded in forcing his way northward, and General Nodzu, from his position on the Sha-ho, opened a furious bombardment on the exact centre of the Russian lines. By these movements General Kuropatkin was led to expect that the brunt of the fighting would fall upon his centre and left; in reality they were designed to hold his attention while more formidable operations were developed on his right.

It was on the last day of February that General Oku's army deployed between the Sha-ho and the Hun-ho, and General Nogi started with incredible rapidity on his northward march. By the time General Kuropatkin became aware of the danger threatening his communications on the right, Nogi had made such progress and so skilfully disposed his forces that to crush him was out of the question; all that Kaulbars could do was to fall back towards Moukden and oppose as stubborn a resistance as possible. The assaults of Kuroki and Nodzu on the centre were so fierce and persistent that Kuropatkin had no troops to spare for the reinforcement of his jeopardized right flank. Doggedly, intrepidly, the indomitable Japanese pressed home their attack. The Russians clung heroically to their positions, and rolled back charge after charge; but still the enemy returned, seeming to gain in vigour and enthusiasm after each repulse. They charged with bayonets, with grenades, with shovels and picks; sometimes, when they penetrated the Russian entrenchments, flinging down their weapons and going to it with their fists. The trenches were filled with corpses; the frozen ground all around was dyed red with blood; there was no respite day or night; men fell, their places were filled, and foe met foe over the bodies of the slain.

For ten days the issue was in doubt. Then, on March 5, Kuroki was across the Sha-ho; Nogi had swept through Sin-min-ting towards the railway; Marshal Oyama's huge army was flinging its octopus tentacles around the Russian position, vast as it was. Kuropatkin, most unfortunate of generals, on March 8 found it necessary to withdraw his centre and left behind the line of the Hun-ho, and collect every unit that could be spared by Kaulbars and Bilderling to stem the advance of Oku and Nogi.

Meanwhile the Russian left had opposed a bold front to Kuroki and Kawawura. Unable to make a successful offensive movement, Linievitch stubbornly retreated in good order beyond the Hun-ho, and entrenched himself in a new position there. But around Moukden the plight of the Russian army was becoming desperate. As the terrible enemy crept on towards the city from all sides save the north-east, the Russian troops, packed into a constantly diminishing space, and exposed to a converging fire, fell in thousands. More than once the Russians attempted to break through. The gallant Kuropatkin in person led a terrific attack on Oku at the head of sixty-five battalions, and his splendid men fought with such courage and determination that for a while it seemed the Japanese advance must be checked. But at this critical moment, when the Russians were at least holding their own on the right centre and left, and Oyama was concentrating to hurl them back, an event had taken place at the left centre that proved to be Fortune's cast of the die. Early on the morning of March 9, Kuropatkin received the news that Kuroki had driven a wedge between Bilderling and Linievitch. Those generals in falling back on the Hun-ho had temporarily lost touch: and the Japanese general, who had never made a mistake throughout the war, was quick to seize this opportunity of breaking the enemy's line. On the same day Nogi got across the railway between Moukden and Tieling; nothing but instant retreat could save the Second and Third Russian armies from annihilation or capture; and at nightfall on that fifteenth day of the battle the order to retreat was given.

Next day at ten in the morning the Japanese entered the city, and with their entrance burst the bubble of Russian domination in Manchuria. Scattered parties of Russians fought on for several days in the neighbouring villages; but with Nogi astride of the main line of retreat and every northern road, the Russians were forced to abandon everything and take to the hills. Two days afterwards the Japanese had chased their enemy full thirty miles to the north; Kuropatkin's great army, broken, routed, had well-nigh ceased to be.

Jack is never likely to forget that terrible fortnight. During the first few days he witnessed nothing of the fighting; he heard the reverberations of the guns, and saw crowds of natives hastening from the villages in the line of the Japanese advance, bearing with them everything portable that could be saved from the impending ruin. At night, standing on the broken mud wall, he beheld in the far distance a dull glow in the sky that told of houses burning, and thought of the untold misery inflicted upon a peaceable and industrious people by the greed of rival governments. But as the tide of battle rolled northward, and the roar of the guns grew louder, other evidences of the terrific struggle came within his ken. Ever and anon a train would rumble northward along the line, with wagon-loads of wounded. The darkness of the nights was now illuminated with bursting star-shells, and the red flare of burning villages nearer at hand. One morning, in the twilight before dawn, he saw an immense column of smoke rise over the Russian settlement by the station. It was in flames. Venturing out with Hi Lo, he soon came upon stragglers from the army, and by and by upon a huge block of horse and foot and artillery, field-telegraph wagons, mess carts, ambulances--all in inextricable confusion, jammed in their frantic efforts to escape. Trains rolled along, crowded to the roofs of the carriages, even to the engine itself, with soldiers; carts lay overturned, broken, wheelless, on the roads and fields; the air was loaded with the acrid fumes from piles of blazing goods, clothing, and forage, burnt to prevent their falling into the hands of the conquerors.

The retreat from Liao-yang had been orderly and not uncheerful; the retreat from Moukden was an orgy of riot and misery. There was no order in the ranks: the officers made no efforts--made, they would have been in vain--to check the insubordination of their men. Some as they fled had looted the sutlers' carts and roamed at large, defenceless, intoxicated, singing wild songs, dropping to the ground, to be frozen stiff in a few minutes. Others tramped along, moody, taciturn, mad, going blindly they knew not whither, they knew not why. Here a horse's head could be seen above the crowd, its eyes bloodshot and haggard, its nostrils dilated. There a horse fell; the throng thickened around it; harsh voices were raised in imprecation; then the movement recommenced, and nothing was heard but the tramping of feet and the crunching of wheels. Wounded men dropped and froze in their blood; others staggered this way and that, having lost all power to govern their limbs; and still in the distance artillery boomed, flames crackled, and the smoke of burning homesteads rose into the sky.

Sick at heart, Jack returned to the village. That evening the Japanese entered it, bringing with them a number of Russian prisoners and wounded, these having been carefully tended by the Japanese ambulance corps. Jack lent what assistance he could in finding cottages where the more seriously injured could remain. "Strange," he thought, "that war, which brings out the worst in men, should bring out also all that is best."

*CHAPTER XXI*

*Ah Lum at Bay*

Schwab again Retreats--A Business Friend--Reinstated--A Little Light--Ah Lum Threatened--A Thousand Roubles Reward--The Lessening Circle--A Mountain Tiger--Mirage--Ah Lum's Lament--A Cossack Cloak

It was not merely curiosity that had held Jack within the area of fighting. He clung with a sort of superstition to the belief that his father's fate was inwoven with the fate of the Russian army. He had a conviction, perfectly illogical, that a victory for Japan would favour his quest. There was so much truth in this idea as that amid the disorders of a Russian retreat he might hope to pass undetected in his disguise. The Russians would be too busy to look closely into the bona-fides of a mere Chinaman, one of thousands who would be swept northwards on the tide. He could easily keep out of sight of the few who might recognize him.

He thus had a purely personal interest in the result of the battle. Convinced that the compradore must have remained with his brother in Harbin, he had resolved to go north and learn from the man's own lips the issue of his enquiries. When the victorious army had rolled by, he set off with Hi Lo in its wake.

One day, a few miles north of Tieling, he was riding slowly along, contrasting his present position with the different circumstances under which he had made the retreat from Liao-yang, with Mr. Schwab's precious tripod in his care, when, a little ahead of him, he caught sight of a solitary figure trudging wearily along. It needed but one glance at the broad back. The tired pedestrian was Schwab himself--and he was carrying the camera.

Jack's lips twitched. To this had come the descendant of the great Hildebrand Suobensius, the itinerant representative of Germany's imperial might! There was matter for amusement in the reflection, and for sympathy too: Schwab's patriotism was genuine; his little vanities were harmless enough; and whatever else might be said of him, he was devoted to the interests of the Schlagintwert company. Jack resolved to make himself known to the correspondent, who could have no interest in betraying him to the Russians. Cantering up behind, he heard Schwab sighing and muttering under his breath.

"Excellenz," he said, "my Sin Foo----"

At the first word Schwab swung round with an alacrity that betokened as much pleasure as surprise.

"Ach!" he said, "I know you; you are imbostor. I am delighted. I abologize."

"That's very good of you, Herr Schwab, but I don't know why."

"Vy! Vy, for my vant of gombrehension, my zickness of shkull. But you did bretend; zat you muss gonfess; and I did bay you your vages, so!"

Jack smiled.

"I've nothing to complain of," he said. "To you I was a Chinese servant, and I never want a better master."

"Say you so? I vill shake hands viz you. Zere vas talk about you in Moukden; vy truly, zey gratulate me for because I haf, zey say, a so clever servant. Ach, mein freund! you see me; I am sad, I am broken; no longer am I vat I haf been."

Schwab proceeded to tell a pitiful story. He had started on the retreat in company with Sowinski, with whom he had arranged a great deal of business against the termination of the war. One night they had taken refuge in a Chinese hovel. Schwab had carefully put the satchel containing his papers and money under his head. In the night he had heard and felt a movement, and, springing up in the dark, seized and held an arm. The arm was wrenched away, then Sowinski's voice asked whether he had heard anything.