Dave glanced inquiringly at the missionary, who nodded back as much as to say that the governor was making a speech along right lines. Indeed, the speech must have had signal effect, for low murmurs ran in all directions through the lately fighting rabble, and by degrees the last efforts at fighting died out on all sides of the compound.
“As soon as the right moment comes,” whispered Dave, “please tell him to order all the people a mile away from this part of the city.”
In an undertone the missionary repeated in Chinese. Then, after a few moments, the movement backward began. A visible tremor of rearward motion passed through the throngs.
In silence the Chinese had heard the closing words of their governor, and now no crowd of thousands could have been more noiseless.
“Take his excellency below again,” Dave commanded Sampson. “He is too valuable an asset to lose just yet. Put him on top of the powder magazine. Our missionary friends will assure his excellency that he is in not the least danger unless the attack is begun again.”
Having seen these orders carried out, Ensign Darrin hurried back to the circle of lanterns.
“Ladies, I am glad to be able to say that I think our danger is nearly over,” he announced. “We have a few more wounded to bring down from the walls. After these men have had attention I think we shall be ready to take up the march to the river, and soon after that I believe that you will all be safe on board the ‘Castoga.’ Don’t rub your eyes or pinch yourselves to see if it all be true. I believe the bad dream is ended.”
Then Dave sought out Sin Foo and “Burnt-face.”
“Come with me to the governor,” he directed, for, while the speech from the rampart was being made, these two underlings had somehow managed to slip away from their perilous place on top of the magazine.
“You are not going to offer us violence, are you?” asked Sin Foo fearfully.