CHAPTER XXII.
'Here they come,' Ping Wang said, and as he spoke a shouting, wild-looking mob of Chinamen came running down the road to the mission station. Halting about twenty yards away from the mission wall, they waited until their whole force had arrived, contenting themselves in the meanwhile with yelling 'Down with the foreigners!' brandishing their weapons and waving their flags. Soon there were quite three hundred Boxers in the road facing the front of the mission, it being their hope to strike terror by a display of their numbers.
At a signal from the leader of the Boxers, about fifty rifles were fired point-blank at the wall. Fred raised his rifle, pressed the trigger, and the Boxer leader threw up his arms and fell on his face. Fred's shot was taken by the other defenders as the signal to fire, and they did so promptly.
The surprise and terror of the Boxers on discovering that they were not invulnerable formed a sight which none of the defenders will ever forget. Every man was seized with a desire to escape from the foreigners' bullets, and they turned and ran in confusion.
'Cease fire,' Barton commanded, when he saw the enemy routed, and Fred, Charlie, and Ping Wang obeyed instantly.
'I don't fancy that the Boxers will trouble us again to-night,' Barton said, a few minutes later, 'for their leaders will have some difficulty after this in convincing them that they cannot be wounded. There is no need for all of us to remain on duty. I dare say you fellows are hungry; come inside.'
'We are not presentable,' Fred said. 'Just look at the rags we are wearing.'
'They are pretty bad,' Barton admitted. 'Come into my room, and I'll see if I can't find you some better ones.'
Barton went into the rooms of two other missionaries, and returned with an armful of clothes. 'Now I will go and see about a meal for you,' he said. 'I will be back in a few minutes.'
When he returned, he could not help smiling at what he saw. Ping Wang, wishing to dress like his friends, had put on knickerbockers and a college blazer, down the back of which hung his black, silky pigtail. Charlie was wearing flannel trousers and a khaki tunic, while Fred was attired in a black and somewhat moth-eaten suit, which was too short for him both in arms and legs.
'You look better than you did,' Barton declared. 'But, now, come and have your supper.'
He led the way along the verandah, and into a large airy room at the back of the building, where the supper was laid. Four ladies were hard at work making sandbags, a task at which they had been busy since early in the morning. Barton introduced the Pages and Ping Wang to them. In spite of the anxiety which the fact of the mission being besieged caused them, they were cheerful in their conversation, and insisted upon the new-comers making a hearty meal. After supper Charlie, Fred, and Ping Wang returned to their posts, relieving the missionaries, and enabling them to have some rest.
The night was very cold, and the sentinels had great difficulty in keeping themselves warm.
'I hope,' Fred said to Charlie, 'that the Boxers won't attack us while my hands are numbed, for I'm sure I could not shoot just now.'
'It's my opinion,' Charlie answered, 'that the reception we gave them has taken the pluck out of them, and that we shan't be troubled with them for some days. Then, perhaps, they will screw up their courage to make another assault.'
'Their silence strikes me as very suspicious,' Ping Wang declared. 'It's my belief that they are planning a surprise.'
Ping Wang's opinion was at once communicated to Barton, with the result that every man on duty was instructed to keep an extra sharp look-out. The order was, as a matter of fact, not needed; for the sentries were as alert as they possibly could be. Hour after hour they peered into the darkness, but without seeing any signs of the enemy.
At daybreak Number One and his assistant cooks brought breakfast to the shivering defenders. They enjoyed their breakfast thoroughly, and thanked Number One for its excellence. He smiled, and sent his assistants away with the crockery. He himself remained, without asking permission, upon the platform. A spare rifle was there, and he took possession of it. Barton was about to send him back to the kitchen when Charlie suddenly exclaimed, 'What's that, just over there?'
'It looks to me uncommonly like an overturned wheelbarrow,' Barton replied. 'We shall know when it gets a little lighter.'
'It is a wheelbarrow,' Fred declared, a few minutes later.
'Well,' Charlie exclaimed, 'this is the first time that I have heard of a man coming into battle on a wheelbarrow!'
'I can see what it was used for!' Fred exclaimed. 'It carried the ammunition. I can see the cartridges lying on the ground. We must have those. I will go down and get them. Where's the ladder?'
'We certainly need more ammunition,' Barton admitted, 'but it would be a dangerous job for you to get those cartridges.'
'I object too,' said Charlie. 'It would be madness to run the risk of losing our best shot. I will go and get the cartridges, and, with Mr. Wilkins and you two to keep off any one who approaches me, I shall be pretty safe.'
'Charlie's plan is the better of the two,' Ping Wang joined in; 'but he mustn't attempt to carry it out without help. If he has one or two men with him the Boxers will be less likely to attack him, and certainly the job will be done more quickly. I'll be one of the men to accompany him, and I should like Number One to be the other.'
Ping Wang asked Number One in Chinese if he would care to take part in fetching the ammunition. His face beamed at the idea.
'Get the ladder, then,' Barton said; and Charlie added, 'Bring a sack.'
Number One fetched both at once. The sack was thrown down into the road, and the ladder lowered quickly.
Charlie was the first to descend, but his companions followed so quickly that all three were on the ladder at the same time. Snatching up the sack the moment that he touched the ground, Charlie ran to the overturned wheelbarrow. Ping Wang and Number One were only a yard or two behind him, and soon all three were scooping up handfuls of cartridges and dropping them in the sack.
'Guns, mistah,' Number One exclaimed when the sack was about half full, and pointed to three rifles lying near.
'Pick them up,' Charlie said, 'and run back with them at once.'
'Can do,' Number One replied, and, collecting the rifles, ran back to the ladder, climbed up it, and handed his prize over the wall to Barton. Then, running to the barrow, he resumed his work of picking up cartridges.
'We needn't trouble about the others,' Charlie said when they had collected all but about thirty, which were scattered over a wide space, and, slinging the sack over his shoulder, he started for the ladder. At the same moment four shots were fired at him from the houses facing the mission, but without touching him or his companions. Mr. Wilkins, Barton, and Fred returned the fire instantly, but their opponents were hidden from view, and their shots were wasted—at least, they imagined that they were wasted; but it was a very fortunate thing for them that they had not touched a Boxer, for the fanatics no sooner found that they were unhurt by the foreigners' fire than they jumped to the conclusion again that they could not be wounded. One of them, springing up from his place of hiding on the roof, tried a standing shot at Charlie, but, before he had time to fire, Mr. Wilkins's rifle rang out, and the Boxer fell forward into the street. His death was not witnessed by the other Boxers, for they were in a different house. One of them exposed his head for a moment, and Barton and Fred fired simultaneously, and one, or perhaps both, hit it. But the other Boxers kept under cover, and one of them shot Number One through the left arm.
Ping Wang and Number One climbed the ladder in safety, but Charlie, whose progress was hampered by the sack, had not reached the foot of it.
'Drop the sack and run!' Fred shouted, but his brother either did not hear or would not take his advice.
'Run, Charlie! never mind about the sack,' Fred again shouted, but Charlie was now close to the foot of the ladder, and had no intention of losing his prize. A bullet tore up the ground a yard in front of him, and Fred, in desperation, fired the contents of his magazine at the spot where the man was hidden. The rapidity of the firing apparently frightened him, and Barton having wounded the other man, Charlie climbed the ladder without further harm; but just as he reached the safe side of the wall, a crowd of fully one hundred Boxers rushed round the corner, and began a determined attack on the mission.