One of the Japanese had been left on guard, and at length he came back with word that the Russians had gone off to a neighboring drinking resort.
“But they say they will hunt out the American,” said he. “And also hunt out us who aided him. One of the Russians said the American must be a leader among us and ought to be hung.”
This last bit of information was dismaying to Gilbert. Like a flash he realized that his troubles were growing deeper and deeper.
“First, it was Captain Barusky and that fellow who had me put out of the hotel, then it was that officer who caught me on the tower, and now it is the crowd who think I am a leader of these Japs,” was what he told himself. “If they catch me, I reckon they’ll do all they can to make me a Russian prisoner of war.”
The Japanese and Chinese knew how Gilbert had stood up for Jiru Siko and his family, and they told him they would do all in their power for the young American.
“I am afraid I’ll have to keep out of sight of the Russian authorities for the present,” said the ex-lieutenant. And he did what he could to explain the situation. They listened with keen interest to his story, and at the conclusion said, if he would remain with them, they would do their utmost to protect him.
“Got better room for American,” said one, and after a consultation with Jiru Siko led the way along another passageway and up a narrow and dirty flight of stairs to a small apartment in the rear of a Chinese furniture shop. The shop had been closed ever since the first bombardment in the harbor, and many of the goods had been carried away.
The apartment was small but clean and had one narrow window, overlooking some sheds which lined the upper harbor entrance. Gilbert was told he could remain there as long ass he pleased, and the Japanese and Chinese would see to it that he did not suffer for the want of food.
The fighting in the harbor had now come to an end, and only the occasional distant booming of a cannon could be heard. Satisfied with sinking or disabling the flower of the Russian navy located at Port Arthur, Admiral Togo left the vicinity, fearful that sooner or later the fire from the forts might reach him. This fire had been incessant, but the aim of the Russian gunners had been poor and but little damage had been done.
Sitting down on a stool near the window, which was tightly closed to keep out the cold air, Gilbert gave himself up to his reflections. His mind was in a tumult, and for some time he could scarcely straighten out his thoughts.