“Bring out what food you have!” the fellow said roughly; “all of it. There are many of us in the village; it is of no use making resistance. We want to eat ourselves and to carry all there is here back to our comrades. Who is this? a son of yours?”
“No,” the old man said, “he is a stranger, and bears a message from the Empress for your general at Tientsin.”
“Let me see it!” the man demanded. “It is strange that you should come round this way, instead of going straight.”
“My message is to the general,” Rex said, “and I give it to no one else.”
“But how are we to know that your story is true?” the Boxer said. “This is not the way that a messenger from the Empress would come, and if she sent one it would not be by a fellow like you. Empresses do not entrust their messages to peasants. I believe you are a spy from the white devils at Pekin.”
“I canʼt help what you believe,” Rex said quietly, “nor do I mean to quarrel with you. I will therefore say to you, leave me alone and I will leave you alone.”
“Message or no message,” the Boxer said, “I will soon satisfy myself.” And he drew his sword.
Rex listened a moment through the open door. He could hear a great din and commotion; muskets were being discharged, and flames were bursting out from among the cottages. Feeling, therefore, that the sound of a pistol would hardly attract attention, he raised his weapon as the Boxer rushed at him, and shot the man through the head.
The old peasant wrung his hands.