The officer, pale and quivering with rage and chagrin rather than fear, threw a glance at Lieutenant Borisoff, who nodded.
"Agreed," said Kargopol fiercely.
Going to the door, the Chinaman said a few words to those outside. They rose and stood, fully armed, in the passage.
"They are Chunchuses, you observe, sir; not peaceful countrymen, as you believed, but the men you are hunting. We will pass outside. Be careful not to alarm your Cossacks."
They passed by the row of silent Chinamen out into the street. The officers were saluted by the sentry, who supposed them to be making the rounds. They came to the largest house in the village. In front, on the street, nothing was to be seen. But at the back, and in a dark passage-way at the side, were at least twenty dim figures, armed at all points with rifle, pistol, and dagger. The silent group passed to another house, and to yet another; at each, cunningly placed out of sight of the patrol, Chunchuses lurked, awaiting the signal for the terrible work of the night.
"We have but a few minutes, gentlemen, before the signal. Are you satisfied? Nothing stands between your men and extermination, save yourselves. What is your decision?"
The captain bit his moustache.
"Let things take their course," said Borisoff quietly. "We had better die fighting than be tortured to death after surrender."
"I can promise you and your men good treatment as prisoners of war—always supposing your general is willing to exchange you for our men, and does not hang any more of ours in the meantime. You need not fear torture."
The Russians laughed grimly.