“Thirty-two,” answered the bishop promptly. “The American residents of the city flocked to our defense.”
“From what I saw from the ship’s deck,” rejoined Darrin, “all I can say is that you presented a magnificent front with only thirty-two rifles. As I have but fifty-two naval rifles with me, that makes up a total force of only eighty-four rifles.”
“Can’t we get through to the water-front?” inquired Belle. “For you are going to take us to the ‘Castoga,’ are you not?”
“If we can safely get there,” Dave replied. “And now I must drop everything else until I have communicated with the gunboat. Bishop, did you lose any of your party?”
“None of the white members,” replied the missionary. “Our sixteen Chinese converts at the mission insisted on taking care of themselves. Whether any of them has been killed, I do not know.”
“I must get a signalman up on the walls,” Dave continued. “Bishop, will you kindly see, sir, that your party follows my men? I am going to the other side of the compound.”
As soon as Belle Darrin caught sight of her old school friend, Danny Grin, she hurried forward to greet him.
Out of the main building of the yamen came Sin Foo, with sullen, offended face and stately tread.
“Sir,” called Dave, “I must put a signalman up on the ramparts.”
“Since you take everything into your own hands,” replied the secretary coldly, “you do not need his excellency’s permission. Yet I am charged to say that all you do here is against the protest of his excellency, and complaint will be made to your government.”