“I’m afraid you are piling up trouble for yourself, Gilbert,” said Ben, in English. “We may be thrown into Captain Barusky’s power.”
“Yes, I understand,” answered Gilbert.
“If you wish to make a charge against Captain Barusky, you will be likely to have an opportunity to do so,” went on the Russian officer.
“I’ll think it over,” said Gilbert, and then the subject was changed to the campaign in China. The Russian officer was glad to talk about old times, and remained with the young Americans the best part of an hour.
“This is certainly news!” cried Gilbert, when he had departed.
“Gilbert, the more I think of it, the more I imagine you’ve put your foot in it.”
“I certainty have—if Captain Barusky has anything to do with the prisoners.”
“You can be sure that he will single you out for extra bad treatment—especially if he learns you have been talking about him.”
“Well, I only told the truth.”
By morning it was raining once more, but despite the storm the march toward An-Ping was resumed. The route lay between the hills and mountains and across several fair-sized streams. They passed many Chinese villages, the inhabitants gazing at both Russians and prisoners with ill-concealed interest.