Bang! bang! rang out the guns, far below. The great gas-bag quivered and began to drop faster.
"They've hit us again!" said Fred. "We're in for it now. The question is, whether we shall get as far as the town. Somehow I don't fancy dropping down on our brown friends there, they're so handy with their rifles. Let's see what effect our ensign will have on them!"
THE END OF THE TRAITOR.
He unrolled the Japanese flag he had caught up in running through the streets of Liaoyang, and displayed it as prominently as possible; but this only seemed to exasperate their assailants, who now were keeping up a regular fusilade.
Suddenly Stevens gave a scream. "I'm hit! I'm hit!" he shrieked, clasping his hand to his breast. Springing to his feet, he tottered, and before Fred could seize his unfortunate companion the spy lost his balance and fell backward over the side of the car.
Lightened of his weight the balloon made one more leap toward the clouds, crossed the outer trenches and forts of Port Arthur, and with a graceful sweep descended in the heart of the city. A hundred hands seized the wicker car and the rope, and Fred Larkin, still shocked and benumbed by the terrible fate that had overtaken his comrade, mechanically climbed out and stood, half-dazed, on the pavements of the very square where he had met Stevens three months before.
A babel of voices greeted him, but before he could explain his involuntary descent the Japanese flag caught the eye of an officer who had joined the crowd, and the reporter was roughly seized, blindfolded, and hurried away to a prison cell.
Early in the evening he was visited by two or three officials of rank, who had him searched and even stripped, for evidence of guilt. "Amerikansky," said Fred, over and over, seemingly without effect.