"Perhaps," said one of these officials to Fred, "a column will leave soon for Korea. It would give me exalted pleasure to allow you to accompany them. No, I cannot tell when or where. Must you go? Good-day!"
The days passed quickly. Larkin did his best to pick up scraps of information and cable, or write them out, for the Bulletin. His leisure moments he spent with the Blacks and Bob Starr, who was their unfailing escort in all excursions. Once they came upon Bellardo in full daylight, and Fred studied his face, but had to confess himself baffled. A rather dark complexion, full black beard, and an odd mispronunciation of English—these peculiarities he noted; in the two-minute interview with the young ladies he could make out nothing more, nor did he even secure an introduction, Bellardo excusing himself, on the plea of an engagement, and moving away just as Fred joined the group.
The correspondents of the great American, English, French, and German dailies became more and more impatient. Some of them gave up, or were recalled, and went home. The certainty that Japanese troops were being taken across in transports made the situation the more aggravating. News of various sea-fights, and skirmishes on land, was posted by the newspapers. It was evident that the war was proceeding, just as if there were no war correspondents waiting to report it—at least, on the Japanese side. The city reporters in New York were better informed as to the movements of the two great armies than these scouts so near the firing line, yet so far away. Before long there appeared ship-loads of wounded men, sent back from the front to the hospitals in Nagasaki and Tokio.
Information was given out that the Russians were concentrating in the lower Yalu valley, and that here the first great battle might take place. It was necessary for Japan to strike across the Korean peninsula and isolate Port Arthur, cutting the railroad above it if possible.
"Larkin," said Starr, meeting the reporter in the street one day early in March, "I've received word that the Zafiro will be at this port to-morrow, and I am ordered back to the Osprey. I hate to say good-bye to you, old fellow!"
"And I hate to have you," said Fred. "Perhaps you won't have to," he added meaningly.
"Oh, yes, of course I must obey orders. I'm on my way now to make my farewell call at the hotel. This evening I'll run in to see you at your lodgings on my way home."
But when Bob called, Larkin was not in his lodgings, nor, strange to say, was there any trace left of his ever having occupied the room. No one knew where he had gone. He had paid his bill in full and left the house early in the evening, taking the small bag which constituted all his luggage.
With a heavy heart—for various reasons—Bob went on board the Zafiro the next morning, and the little despatch-boat put out to sea.