“What is it, Hing Chang?”
“The Japanese sharpshooters! The same we met last night!”
The report was correct—some Japanese soldiers were rushing along the road with guns ready to fire. In a second more a volley of shots rang out, and three of the Chinese bandits fell to the earth, two dead and the third badly wounded.
“Banzai!” was the Japanese cry. “Here they are—the rascals who stole the things from our camp. At them, men! Let not one of them escape!”
“The sharpshooter! We must ride!” muttered the Chunchuses. “They are too many for us!” And letting Gilbert and Ben go, they leaped for their horses with all speed.
The Japanese detachment continued to fire on them, and they sent back two volleys in return. Then they went clattering up the road as fast as their horses could carry them.
The turn of affairs was bewildering, and the Americans scarcely knew what to do. Then Gilbert, who happened to possess a white handkerchief, which neither Russians nor Chunchuses had cared to take from him, hoisted it in the air as a flag of truce.
“Banzai!” he roared, and Ben joined in the cry, to show the Japanese that they belonged to the army and not to the bandits.
It was well they raised the handkerchief, for it probably saved them from death. Even as it was, several sharpshooters fired on them, but luckily the shots did no further harm than to clip their clothing.
“Vell, of dis ton’t peat der pand!” shouted a German voice. “Cabtain Russell und Cabtain Bennington, or I vos dreamin’!” and the next instant Carl Stummer came forward from among the sharpshooters.