some plan. The straw-byres and the inflammable roof of the farmer's dwelling caught his eye. In a moment he came to a decision he called his sous-officier to him, and gave him a paper upon which he had scrawled a rough map, and written his notes during their mid-day halt. His orders were as follows: "We will set fire to these stacks and to the roof of the house; as soon as they are making a good blaze and smoke you will climb over the roof, through the flames if necessary, while we throw open the doors and endeavour to escape, by that means engaging and attracting the enemy. You will get away as best you can with those papers, and deliver them to the colonel before daybreak tomorrow. Trust in the Emperor to help you."

The sous-officier looked at him steadily a moment, and saluting said, "But you, Excellency, will be killed. How can I leave you? We will distract the enemy

while your Excellency escapes with the papers."

The subaltern replied, "Brave man, I

appreciate your motive; but

you

have my

orders; my orders you cannot disobey."

"But- !"

"My orders you cannot disobey; you have my orders."

The sous-officier was reduced to silence: he saluted, and then secreted the papers in his vest.

It was now dark enough, and the sousofficier crept back into the opium-den and collected two of the smokers' lamps. With these they set fire to the stable and the straw-ricks. Owing to the wet, for some time the ricks refused to burn; but the troopers pulled out great armfuls of straw from the centre, and in ten minutes the whole of one side of the courtyard was a great roaring sheet of flame. The sparks flew upwards, and the wind, fanning the flames, carried them to the roof of the

dwelling. Beneath the tiles the dressing was dry and inflammable; the paper windows and the wooden lattices crackled and burnt like tinder. There was just one point where the sous-officier could break through. As soon as he was in position, the subaltern called his remaining four men, and lining them up faced the gateway.

Already they heard the jeering shouts of the Cossacks outside; the wretched Chinese inhabitants, from the men's and the women's quarters alike, were bolting out like driven hares and seeking shelter behind the inner wall. The men were silent, but the women were wailing as they saw their home gutted before their eyes. War is cruel and horrible—it knows no mercy.

The subaltern gave the word, the bolts were pulled back, the bars thrown over, and the gates clanged open. With the national battle-cry on their lips the handful of de

voted little men dashed through the opening. A semicircle of flashes broke the wall of outer darkness; for perhaps one minute the rifles crackled, and then all was

The sous-officier delivered the papers at daybreak. It is common history how the Japanese flank-attack marched by the way of the Fu-chau road and wrecked Stackel

burg's army at Tehlitz. What does one officer's patrol more or less matter?

252

XVII.

THE LAST SERVICE.

THOSE Who have made the journey from Chefoo or Wei-hai-Wei to Shanghai during the winter months know how rough it can be in the Yellow Sea. Viewed after the gigantic scale of nature, the Yellow Sea and Gulf of Pe-chili are but shallow saucers filled with water. The slightest external disturbance is sufficient to convulse them, and once convulsed the resistance from shallow bottom and rock-bound coast-line renders navigation both difficult and dangerous. This fact being understood, the reader will more readily appreciate the fixity of purpose which not only found the Japanese destroyers committed to the fury of these uncertain seas, but also