“Were they Chinese?”
“They must have been—it was almost too dark to see. There’s another of them!”
Gilbert pointed to a distant corner with his hand and sank down as if exhausted. The policeman stared at him for an instant.
“I’ll see what I can do,” said the officer of the law, as he drew his pistol. “Stay here till I return,” and off he went on a run.
The moment the officer had turned the corner the ex-lieutenant started on a dead run in the opposite direction. Having rested, he was able to make fairly good time, and soon put four squares between himself and the policeman. Then he dropped once again into a walk, but now kept a sharp lookout on all sides for the possible appearance of another enemy.
Before he reached the Chinese quarter of the town he heard a tramping at a distance. More soldiers had arrived, including some Cossack cavalry, who went clattering loudly over the pavements.
“So you get back, no trouble,” said Jiru Siko, when he appeared. “Much glad to see dat,” and the face of the little brown man showed his sincerity.
“But I had a whole lot of trouble,” answered Gilbert, and told his story. “Port Arthur is altogether too hot to hold me much longer.”
“Very bad—bad for American—bad for poor son of Nippon,” was the reply. “Glad to go soon.”
“Yes, I’ll be glad to get out myself. But we’ll have to be very careful, Siko.”