Arriving at the hill, Schwab saw that it was impossible to ride up its northern face, while to ascend on either side would be to court death from the Japanese shells. But in his zeal on behalf of the Illustrirte Vaterland he was determined to gain the summit. Hitching the pony's reins to a tree, he bade Jack follow him up the steep acclivity nearer the road, warning him to be very careful of the camera. After a stiff climb they, panting, reached the top. Just as they appeared there was a prolonged whistle followed by a sharp crack; the new-comers were assailed with loud shouts; several hands seized upon Schwab and forced him into a trench cut in front of the tower, and rough Russian voices informed the puffing German that he had narrowly escaped a shrapnel. He did not understand what they said; but Jack, who had slipped into the trench behind him, whispered:
"My tinkey this plenty nasty place. Japanese he shoot too stlaight."
Herr Schwab mopped his face with a red bandanna and glanced somewhat nervously around. But the shock wore off, and finding himself to all seeming well protected, his courage soared into antiquity.
"My ancestor, Hildebrand Suobensius——" he began.
There was a shriek above him; another shell had burst but a few yards away. He dropped flat in the trench. Twisting his neck until one side of its fleshiness was creased with deep furrows, he said:
"Tell me, boy, do you see any more shells goming?"
Jack peeped cautiously over.
"My no look-see no mo'e, masta. He come long-long chop-chop all-same."
Schwab slowly rose to his knees, again mopping his brow.
"Zis is most terrible. Never did I zink zat var vas such a business! Gnädiger Himmel! vy haf I gome? Boy, I haf a bresentiment." His voice sank on a tragic note. "I feel it here." He laid his hand on the lower buttons of his ample waistcoat. "I, Hildebrand Schwab, shall vizout doubt be killed." He wrung the bandanna out. "Listen, boy, gif notice: ven I am killed you shall send all my goots to Schlagintwert Gompany in Düsseldorf, all egzept ze letter to Schneiders Sohne, vich gontain order for vun dozen trouser stretchers for General Belinski; zat you shall bost. And listen, boy:"—here his voice sank to a confidential whisper—"in my writing-desk zere is a visp of my hair tied up viz bink ribbon, and a boem, a boem of lov; zese you vill send to ze Frau Jane Bottle, at ze address on ze envelope, and you vill register ze packett. Yes—and insure it—you shall insure it for hundert dollars."