A moment later a number of bullets swept over the rampart top. Dave, Dan and the Bishop were the only ones standing there. As for Sin Foo and “Burnt-face,” they were grovelling on the rampart floor.
“Sir, I beg you to go below,” Ensign Darrin urged the Bishop. “Or else lie flat. You are in too great danger here. I believe that the fire will soon be ten times more brisk, and considerably more deadly.”
“I am not afraid,” replied Bishop Whitlock calmly. “If my eyes were younger and keener I would handle a rifle, but I fear that I would waste too many cartridges.”
“Won’t you go below, sir, that we may all feel easier?” Dave begged.
“If I am making you uneasy, then I shall go down at once,” answered the missionary simply. “My friend, may you be fortunate and successful here to-day!”
He held out a hand which Ensign Darrin grasped. Then the old man started below.
“The Chinese are starting firing from the river side,” Dave announced, as a heavy volley of shots rang out from a new point. “Dan, you had better go over and direct our reply to the fire from the river side. Don’t let any of the yellow rascals get close to the compound.”
Dave turned just in time to see Sin Foo crawling down the steps, while “Burnt-face” looked on with evident interest.
“Mr. Sin Foo,” Dave rasped out sharply, “come back! If you make another attempt to leave this rampart you will be fired upon without challenge. Any of my men who see you make the attempt will shoot you without further orders.”
His fright showing to a ghastly degree, Sin Foo slowly crawled back. He was not in the slightest danger so long as he did not raise his head above the parapet, but the under secretary plainly had no military blood in his veins.