Dave led the men forward, Dalzell remaining behind with the remainder of the little command.
Finding the points of the bayonets at their breasts, the Chinese gave utterance to cries of fright. There was a backward surge.
“Halt!” cried Dave, just in time to prevent some of the Chinese from feeling cold American steel. “Steady! Forward march! Hep, hep, hep!”
Emphasizing the speed of the step with his “hep, hep,” Dave now continued his squad at a brisk walk, giving the yellow natives time to make their retreat without trampling one another.
At the next corner the Chinese surged off at right angles in two directions.
“I guess we’ll find the rest of the way clear enough,” smiled Ensign Dave, again forming his men in double file and falling back to Dan’s side. “The Mongols had me scared. I was afraid I’d have to order the men to load and fire.”
“Would you have done that?” asked Dalzell.
“Why not?” asked Dave, with a shrug of his shoulders. “There are American women up at the yamen, and they are still in peril. My orders are to reach the yamen, and I propose to do it if it be possible. If any yellow men try to block our way they will do so at their own risk. I’ll charge or fire into any crowd or force that blocks our way.”
“Good!” chuckled Ensign Dan. “I like the sound of that talk!”
Down by the river front, save for the warehouses, the buildings were of the meanest—flimsy affairs of bamboo, with cheaply lacquered facings, windows of oiled paper and floors of earth. Now, however, the little naval column began to pass through a better part of the city. Here the houses were of wood, substantially built, and of pagoda or tent patterns. Not a few of these dwellings were surrounded by compounds, or yards, enclosed by high stone walls.