When the missionary had gone, Gabriele left the Korean servants to clear the table, and, accompanied by her old nurse, went out into the garden with a light wicker basket. As she did so she scanned the surrounding country for signs of the shooting party. The mission station was at the summit of a low hill, and below it, towards the east, stretched a tract of sparse woodland, alternating with cultivated fields. A stream bathed the foot of the hill, and wound away to join the Hun-Chuan, its course traceable by the thickness of the wooded belt and the more vivid green of the fields.
While the girl was still picking the ripe red berries she heard another shot, this time closer at hand. She rose, and out of pure curiosity searching the landscape she saw, about two miles away, a band of horsemen galloping through a field of kowliang, already so well grown that the stalks rose almost to the horses' heads. There were some thirty or forty of the riders, at present little more than specks in the distance. It struck her as rather a large hunting party, and she wondered what they were chasing, big game being unknown in the neighbourhood, and the time of year unusual for such sport. As she stood looking, the horsemen left the field and disappeared into the wooded belt bordering the stream.
Expecting them to come again into sight a little higher up, Gabriele remained at the same spot. It occurred to her that one of them might be bringing the written permission she desired, and had taken advantage of his errand to organize a hunt. Suddenly she was startled to see a figure on horseback emerge from the copse but a few yards below her. It was a young man, a European; he was swaying in his saddle; and she noticed with feminine quickness that one arm was supported in a sling—a handkerchief looped round his neck. The next moment the rider caught sight of her; his eyes seemed to her to speak the language of despair. He swayed still more heavily, and was on the point of falling from his horse when Gabriele sprang down the slope and caught him. Calling to her nurse and a Korean man-servant near at hand, with their help she lifted him from the saddle and loosened his shirt-collar, then sent the Korean for water.
Jack was dazed at first, all but swooning.
"Thank you!" he said in Russian. "I was almost done, I think. But please help me to mount again. I must ride on."
"Impossible, gospodin!" she said. "You are hurt, I see; the injury must be seen to."
"It is good of you, but my arm must wait. Please help me to mount my pony."
His wounded arm, his urgent manner, recalled to Gabriele the shots she had heard, the band of horsemen she had seen galloping in the distance.
"You are in danger?" she said quickly. "Is it not so?"
"Yes. There are Buriats behind me; they are close on my heels. Indeed"—he smiled wanly—"it is your duty, as a Russian, I suppose, to give me up."