CHAPTER XXVII
A RAINY MARCH TO TUNG-CHOW
All unconscious that he was being followed by two Chinamen who wished to take his life, Gilbert walked along slowly until the end of the street was reached. Then he turned down a side road, which led to an encampment of British cavalry. He had become acquainted with some of these men, and he was curious to see how they conducted themselves when off duty.
As mentioned before in this story, many streets in China become in time little better than ditches; and this was true of the road Gilbert was pursuing. It was not over fifteen feet in width; and at the bottom lay loose stones, weeds, and not a little garbage. All the houses along the road appeared to be dark and locked up.
Half the distance to the British encampment was gained, when the young lieutenant imagined that he heard footsteps behind him. He turned quickly, and made out two forms approaching. As soon as discovered, the two forms sank out of sight behind a pile of stones.
"I don't like this," said Gilbert to himself, and instinctively felt for his pistol.
He was still three hundred yards from the British encampment, and not even an outpost was near him. The sky was now blacker than ever, and the road became so dark he could not see over a score of feet in any direction.
Suddenly a stone whizzed past his head, coming from where he had seen the two forms disappear. The first missile was followed by a second, which took him in the shoulder.
"Stop, or I'll fire!" he called out, and raised his weapon, but saw nothing to aim at. Then came two more stones, one of which hit him in the side of the head, half stunning him. He staggered forward, and then fell flat.
"We have brought him down!" whispered one of the Chinamen, the brother to the one that had been killed. "Come!" And he ran toward Gilbert, closely followed by his companion.
The Celestials were still a few feet away, when 
It was now a hand to hand contest.—Page 271.
Gilbert turned around, and managed to get to his knees. He felt that his assailants meant to take his life, if they could; and he was determined to resist to the last.
He had no time to take a good aim with his pistol, but fired as rapidly as he could; and. the bullet pierced the ankle of one of the Celestials, causing him to drop down with a roar of pain. Then the other, Chow Ching, leaped upon him, dagger in hand.
To this day Gilbert cannot explain how he escaped the deadly blow which was aimed straight for his heart. But escape it he did, the keen blade merely burying itself in his clothing. Then the young lieutenant fired a second time, but this shot took no effect.
It was now a hand-to-hand contest; and, leaping up, Gilbert caught the Chinaman by the throat, at the same time trying to catch the man's wrist with his other hand. On his part the Celestial aimed blow after blow at the young lieutenant, one striking Gilbert in the hip. But this was of small consequence, and at last Gilbert had the wrist secured; and he gave it such a powerful twist that the dagger dropped to the ground.
"Help me!" cried Chow Ching to his companion. "Help me, Tung, before it is too late!"
"I cannot. I am wounded," groaned Tung.
The talk being in Chinese, Gilbert could not understand a word of it. But he realized that the second Celestial would take a part if he could; and, consequently, he began to drag Chow Ching up the road, away from the fallen Tung.
But Chow Ching, if not extra strong, was wiry; and presently he gave a twist, and freed himself. Then he leaped back to where the dagger had fallen, and secured the blade. Gilbert's pistol was not far away, but in the darkness the Celestial did not see it.
Footsteps were now heard approaching; and presently two tall English cavalrymen hove into appearance, each with a drawn sabre.
"What's the row 'ere, Hi want to know," demanded the one in advance.
"Help me!" answered Gilbert. "I have been attacked by two Chinese assassins."
"Give yourselves hup!" roared the second cavalryman. "Hif you don't, Hi'll fire!"
But Chow Ching had no intention of giving himself up; and, dagger in hand, he made for the nearest building. Instantly both cavalrymen fired their pistols at him; but, if he was hit, he gave no sign. He disappeared behind the building; and, though Gilbert and the Englishmen hunted for him half an hour, he could not be found. It may be as well to add here that the young lieutenant never saw Chow Ching again.
While the hunt was going on, the soldiers had kept their eyes on Tung, who still lay groaning in the roadway. The search over, a guard was called, and the Celestial was made a prisoner. When examined, he said that Chow Ching had told him that Gilbert was the murderer of Chow Fim. He was sent to the rear, and later on placed in the prison at Tien-Tsin.
The adventure had given Gilbert all he wanted of roaming around in the dark alone; and, after that, he stuck close to camp, excepting when duty called him elsewhere.
"You must be careful," said Captain Banner again. "We've lost officers enough already. At this rate, there won't be a handful of us left by the time we reach Pekin."
Although the night had looked like rain, the sun came up clear and strong on the following morning; and by ten o'clock the heat was almost unbearable. The march was resumed, the Japanese and Russians having gone on ahead.
"Where to now?" asked Gilbert.
"To Ho-Si-Wu, and from there to Matow," answered Captain Banner.
"And how far is that from Pekin?"
"About twenty-eight miles. But I understand we have still the worst end of the road to travel."
"To move ahead in this heat is well-nigh impossible," went on Gilbert, as he stroked the perspiration from his brow with the side of his finger. "Poor Kelson is knocked out, and Ramsey says his head feels as if it had fireworks inside of it."
"Then Ramsey had better go to the rear, or he'll be knocked out, too. That will leave us with but seventy-nine men. I must say I feel rather queer myself," continued Captain Baimer, "My stomach is very weak."
"You had better take it easy yourself, captain," was Gilbert's sober comment. "I must say you look as if you were fixing for a fever." And in this surmise Gilbert was correct; for Captain Banner was struck with tropical fever on the arrival of the troops at Ho-Si-Wu, and had to be sent back to the hospital at Taku by boat.
This left Gilbert in command of Company A,—a position he was proud to assume, although regretting exceedingly that his fellow-officer was not to participate in the assault on the Chinese capital. The young lieutenant took command in his own quiet way, which at once won the respect of all under him.
"Sure, an' ye desarve the position," said Dan Casey. "None of the b'ys has fought harder nor you."
"I think you have done your share of fighting, Dan," replied Gilbert. "If you keep on, you'll come out a sergeant at least, and perhaps a lieutenant."
"Well, I wouldn't mind being a sergeant, captain; but, as fer a lieutenancy in the rigulars, I'm afraid it's beyant me. If it was the volunteers, it might be different. I'm not from West P'int, ye know."
"And neither am I, Dan. And there is always room at the top," concluded the acting captain of Company A.
Ho-Si-Wu having been occupied without serious opposition, the Allies marched straight for Matow, and from that unimportant town through Ching-Chia-Wan to the walled city of Tung-Chow, popularly known as the gateway to Pekin.
The opposition on the way was much less than anticipated. As before, the Japanese and Russians kept in advance, with the other troops on the right and the left. At various points the Chinese had thrown up strong intrenchments, and all their fortifications were ready for use; yet they generally fled after firing one or two rounds from rifles and cannon.
On the last two days of the march the long-threatened rain came down in torrents, covering the already muddy roads to the depth of six inches with water and shme. In this storm some of the transportation wagons lost their way; and for two nights Major Morris's battalion slept out in the field without covering of any kind. Of the transportation wagons which became lost, three took a side road running directly into the Cliinese camp; and these would have been captured by the enemy, had not some sharpshooters of the Russians discovered them, and turned the drivers back.
It must be confessed that some of the soldiers were much disheartened, for the wearisome march was beginning to tell upon them. They could scarcely drag one tired leg after the other, and had to be urged forward constantly by their officers. They were willing—nay, eager,—to fight; but to drag along mile after mile through rain and mud, with the thermometer standing at a hundred degrees in the shade, was something for which nobody had bargained.
And yet all felt that the advance upon Pekin must be made as soon as possible. The foreigners congregated in the compound of the British legation were being subjected to a constant bombardment by the Boxers and Chinese troops; and, if the legation fell, it was certain that every man, woman, and child would be killed, and perhaps horribly tortured. Four hundred and fifteen people were pent up in the compound; and it was being defended by three hundred and four marines and eighty-five volunteers, all imder the general command of Captain Poole, of the British army. Every entrance to the compound was strongly guarded; and barricades of sand and salt bags, boxes, casks, and dirt, were everywhere in evidence.
In the mean time the attack on the foreigners had lasted for many weeks, and the greater part of the foreign settlement in the Tartar City of Pekin was in ruins. This embraced the legations of the various nations, schools, hospitals, hotels, and some very costly residences. Looting went on by day and night, and the torch was applied on every hand. With the foreigners, provisions ran low; but all they could get from outside were a few melons. Yet, to a man, they resolved to die rather than to give up.
With the missionaries in the compound was the Rev. Mr. Wells, the gentleman mentioned in Larry Russell's letter, a devout man who had spent much of his life among the Chinese. In an early fight at the American legation the missionary had been struck by a bullet in the left arm, and he now carried that member in a sling. But he was just as enthusiastic as the rest about holding out, although praying night and day that relief might be no longer delayed.