“If it isn’t too late,” was the grim response.
Once again they moved along the road leaving the woods behind, and coming out to where there were long patches of high corn—destined soon to be trampled under foot by the march of countless Japanese soldiers. In some spots the corn was so high that it was impossible to see over it, even when on horseback.
They passed several farmhouses, but the buildings appeared to be deserted. Once a Chinaman peered at them from behind a corn-crib, but as soon as he was discovered the Celestial lost no time in disappearing.
“They seem to be scared to death,” was Ben’s comment. “I suppose they think they are caught between two fires, with the Japanese on one side and the Russians on the other.”
“And they are, Ben. By this war some of them will lose all they possess, and it is a question as to who will pay them back after the conflict ceases.”
At the end of another mile the cornfields were left behind, and they struck into a wooded road leading more to the southward. A short distance beyond was a cross-road, and here they paused for a minute to “get their bearings,” as Gilbert expressed it.
“My gracious, look there!” cried Ben suddenly, and pointed down the cross-road. A dozen men on horseback had appeared, riding toward them at a rapid gait. “Are those Japanese cavalry?”
“I don’t think they are,” answered Gilbert, after a brief glance at the riders, who were all heavily armed. “They look to me more like Chinese.”
“Chinese? And armed like that? Gilbert, if that is true, they must be Chunchuses!”
“If they are, we had better get out and be quick about it,” was the answer.