Under the Chinese Dragon: A Tale of Mongolia

by F. S. Brereton

'Stunned! Knocked out of time. Not used to an Englishman's fist,' gasped David. 'Let's make quite sure that he isn't foxing.'

He leaned over the man, and placed his ear close to his mouth. Yes, he was breathing—breathing loudly. In fact there was considerable stertor. David lifted a limp arm, and when he released it it fell back with a hollow thud to the ground. He tilted back the eyelids, and though he had but little knowledge of such matters, he could not help but remark that the pupils were equally dilated. There was little doubt, in fact, that the unfortunate but scheming and pugnacious Tartar was stunned by the terrific blow which he had received. It was altogether a revelation to the young fellow crouching beside him. He kneeled close by the man, staring into his face and wondering. He could hardly believe that a moment before he had been face to face with extreme danger and difficulty, and that one sudden movement on his part, one strong blow, had set aside the trouble.

'But has it? There are other people in the prison who will have to be dealt with. There is Chang; there is Tsu-Hi, the dishonest deputy-governor who has so far forgotten himself, and the honour to which all decent-minded Chinamen cling in their belief that, come what may, hospitality to a guest should never be abused. Yes, there is Tsu-Hi, who has shown the utmost treachery.'

David told himself sternly that they must be dealt with. He stood up, still with his eyes on the fallen Tartar. But he was not thinking of his late enemy; he was thinking of the arch-schemer hired by the man in England who should have been as a father to our hero. He was thinking also of the difficulties still before him, of the opposition still to be set aside before he and Dick and Jong could set foot outside the city. Then his face became sterner than ever; the eyes were half-closed as he stared at the Tartar. The scheme which he had first happened on when clambering along the ledge of the windows came back to his mind with redoubled force.

'Yes,' he said, 'they must be dealt with, those two men. First to release Dick, and then we'll talk to them.'

But even now he did not venture out of the cell. He pulled the door open quietly and peeped round into the passage, to find it deserted. There was not so much as a sound, save the gentle rattle of the stiffened paper streamers attached to the lantern swaying overhead.

'No one about. Goaler gone to bed, and the rest of them upstairs where I saw them with the Tartar fellow who is lying stunned in here. But supposing some one were to come along, I should be spotted in a minute. I must have some disguise, I——'

His eyes swung round to the figure stretched on the floor, and for a little while he stared at the fallen under-officer. A keen light came into his eyes, and once more he closed the door of the compartment. Then, swiftly and full of his purpose, he stripped the man of his clothing.

'Just about my size,' he told himself. 'Anyway, I've got to get into his things, whatever happens. Wish there was a glass here; but, as there isn't, I must make the most of it. Ah, boots fit to a T. Cap ditto. This big cloak fits only where it touches, so that don't matter. Now for the gentleman himself. Won't he have a headache in the morning!'

Quickly he pulled off his own garments, coiled his pigtail up on top of his head, and jammed the Tartar's cap on top of it. Then, having donned all his garments, which were voluminous, to say the least of them, he tied the frayed, silken girdle round his middle, attached the clanking sabre, and pushed the revolver home. When he stood up he was by no means a bad copy of the truculent individual who had first greeted him at the entrance of the city.