The station-master looked in the direction indicated. Nearly a mile away a cart, drawn by mules and ponies, was hurrying from the neighbourhood of Ho-ni-ho-tzü towards the station.
"Another passenger, I suspect," said the station-master. "And he'd better hurry, for there's the train at last."
A thin white riband of vapour was just visible against the blue sky, floating above the hills to the west.
"He won't catch it," said the officer.
"I sha'n't keep it for him," returned the official. "But he may just do it. He's cut it rather fine for a Chinaman. The train's late as it is; should have been half-way to Wu-chi-mi by this time."
As he spoke, the engine came in sight round a curve of the hilly track. The Chinamen in waiting rose to their feet, grasped their bundles, and closed up against the barrier. Three riflemen emerged from their little blockhouse and began to patrol the platform; two or three station attendants appeared. A few seconds later the huge train, looking far too large for the station, rumbled in and came to a stop. It consisted of several old and shaky carriages already well filled with passengers, and one saloon in the centre. The few passengers for Mao-shan alighted and passed through the barrier; then the waiting crowd surged through and hurried along the platform in search of vacant places, which seemed hard to find.
A train attendant handed an official-looking paper to the station-master, who passed with it into his office; there was a signature to affix. Two of the Chinese passengers followed him as he left the platform; two others halted near the attendant. There were cries from the officials to the Chinamen to take their seats. Meanwhile the Cossack captain had sauntered into the room of the telegraph operator, and half a dozen Chinamen, having, it seemed, failed to discover vacant places in the forward carriages, were moving on towards the engine, followed by the voluble protest of one of the riflemen, who hurried after them to bring them back. Two or three, among them the big man and the boy who had been playing knuckle-stones, were peering in at the windows of the saloon carriage, apparently in great curiosity to see the occupants.
By this time the rest of the passengers had squeezed themselves into the already crowded compartments. Faces were pressed against all the windows; there was much speculation as to the chance of the belated passenger in the cart catching the train, its progress being eagerly watched, and the Chinamen in the carriages betting freely on the event.
Suddenly a shrill whistle rang out from the room of the telegraph operator. There was an instant change of scene. Here and there along the platform, groups of Chinamen, who a moment before had all the guise of peaceable passengers, threw themselves with startling rapidity upon the officials and the riflemen. There was a series of brief swift struggles; a revolver shot was heard; but that was all. Inside and outside of the train the guard and attendants were in a few seconds bound and helpless; the men who had gone forward to the engine grappled with the driver and fireman; the station-master was tied up in his own office. The passengers, alarmed and apprehensive, were staring open-mouthed at the proceedings. The door of the saloon carriage was thrown open, and there appeared at it two men, one a tall long-bearded Russian officer, whose uniform betokened high rank, the other a fair hook-nosed civilian, who stared round the other's shoulder.
"What is this, what is this?" cried the officer, stepping out of the train revolver in hand.