To this day Gilbert cannot explain how he escaped the deadly blow which was aimed straight for his heart. But escape it he did, the keen blade merely burying itself in his clothing. Then the young lieutenant fired a second time, but this shot took no effect.
It was now a hand-to-hand contest; and, leaping up, Gilbert caught the Chinaman by the throat, at the same time trying to catch the man’s wrist with his other hand. On his part the Celestial aimed blow after blow at the young lieutenant, one striking Gilbert in the hip. But this was of small consequence, and at last Gilbert had the wrist secured; and he gave it such a powerful twist that the dagger dropped to the ground.
It was now a hand-to-hand contest.
“Help me!” cried Chow Ching to his companion. “Help me, Tung, before it is too late!”
“I cannot. I am wounded,” groaned Tung.
The talk being in Chinese, Gilbert could not understand a word of it. But he realized that the second Celestial would take a part if he could; and, consequently, he began to drag Chow Ching up the road, away from the fallen Tung.
But Chow Ching, if not extra strong, was wiry; and presently he gave a twist, and freed himself. Then he leaped back to where the dagger had fallen, and secured the blade. Gilbert’s pistol was not far away, but in the darkness the Celestial did not see it.
Footsteps were now heard approaching; and presently two tall English cavalrymen hove into appearance, each with a drawn sabre.
“What’s the row ’ere, Hi want to know,” demanded the one in advance.