“What has become of the English troops, major? I’ve missed them for the last half-hour.”
“They are somewhere on the road. They are bound to get ahead of us, too, if they can. I believe they got word to move before we did.”
“And the French and the Germans?”
“Somewhere on the road, too, so I heard General Chaffee say. This appears to be a sort of go-as-you-please campaign. Yet it is wonderful to think that none of the Allies have had a falling out. Even the French and Germans get along well together, and they are usually pretty bitter.”
“Where are we to attack?”
“Somewhere along the south-east wall, so I understand. If we can get through, we are to proceed straight for the legations. To my way of thinking, we are going to have our worst fighting after we get into Pekin,” concluded the major.
The companies were swinging along doggedly, keeping a sharp lookout for the possible appearance of the enemy. Once a body of fifty Chinese did appear, but they speedily proved themselves Christians and friends. They had been sent back by the Germans for supplies.
“I don’t see how they can fight their own countrymen,” observed Gilbert to the officer who was acting as his first lieutenant. “It seems unnatural.”
“Well, the Chinese are not all of one race, you know,” was the answer. “Some of them are as different as our people are from the Canadians or Mexicans. They speak different languages, and all their social customs are different. One old traveller was telling me that some Chinamen don’t dare to travel in the districts inhabited by other Chinamen, and such a thing as emigrating from one province to another is almost unknown. You see, all that makes a big difference.”
As the troops neared Pekin, the booming of the artillery could be heard distinctly; and Major Morris’s battalion was yet a mile away from the great wall of the Chinese City, when there came the whining of a shell overhead. The shell, however, burst far in their rear, doing no damage.