Suddenly the “Castoga” took a lively hand in the affair again, her guns belching forth shells.
“Why, they’re landing shells in the ruins of the mission settlement,” declared Danny Grin. “What on earth can that be for?”
“I can’t guess,” answered Dave training his glass on the mission ruins. “Look! there are Chinamen, with shovels, running away. Have they been trying to intrench there?”
“Digging,” answered a quiet voice behind the young officers, and Dave, turning, beheld the white hair and venerable face of Bishop Whitlock. “They are seeking the treasure, or were, until the gunboat shelled them out of our old compound.”
“What treasure, sir?” Dave asked.
“Some Chinaman, either a simpleton or a mischief-maker, started the story that we missionaries had robbed a famous and very ancient temple at Sian-ho-Kung of a hidden treasure there, amounting to several million dollars’ worth of gold and jewels, and that we had hidden the treasure by burying it in our own compound.”
“There was no truth in that, sir?” asked Ensign Darrin incredulously.
“Not a bit, of course,” replied the Bishop, smiling wearily. “Our entire treasure, in wealth, consisted of about seven hundred dollars in gold, belonging to our mission treasury. That gold is now hidden on the persons of men in my party.”
Right over the top of his head Ensign Darrin felt something click. Then, conscious that something had happened, he turned, to see his cap, shot from his head, sailing down into the compound. A marine below picked it up and ran up the steps to hand it to his commander.
Belle Darrin saw the hat shot away, for in the compound below, she had stood watching her husband closely. She gave a slight start, but showed no other sign of fear.