Part 21

His arrival was regarded as a favourable omen. It was likened by Ah Lum to the delightfulness of rain after long drought. Sin Foo was lucky; Fortune would now surely smile. The Chunchuses were, in fact, in a somewhat critical position. The camp, only one day old, was pitched in a valley of the Chang-ling hills some twenty miles above the Kan-hu lake--an extensive sheet of water nearly thirty miles long and of varying breadth. Fifty miles to the north lay the nearest point on the railway, about 150 miles from Harbin and twice as far from Vladivostok, the line threading a tortuous path among the hills. A considerable Russian force sent out from Kirin was known to be at Wo-ke-chan to the south-west; from this place a winter track led over the hills to the head of the La-lin-ho valley, within striking distance of Ah Lum's camp. Another column, at O-mu-so to the south, commanded the upper valley of the Mu-tan-chiang, and while cutting off access to Ah Lum's old quarters on the upper Sungari, threatened his left flank by the high-road to Ninguta. At that place, some eighty miles from O-mu-so, a third column covered the passes into the Lao-ling mountains on the east. The bandits were thus in a ring-fence. Only the north was open, and Jack's news confirmed the wary chief's suspicions that the apparent gap in the north had been left with the sole object of tempting him into the neighbourhood of the railway, on which an overwhelming force was held in readiness.

The confirmation of his suspicions roused the chief from the dejection into which the gradual tightening of the coils had thrown him. From an attitude almost of despair he now rose to a spirit of sullen determination. The Russians were gradually closing around him; they would drive him to bay.

"The tiger comes to eat the fly," he said. "Wah! he may prove a wooden tiger. The Russians shall see what it is to draw a badger. I own, honoured sir, I thought once of disbanding my force. But on reflection I have come to another mind. The very villagers who have been most willing to help me would probably turn against me retreating, and sell me to the Russians. He who advances may fight, but he who retreats must take care of himself. It is better to die fighting. Adversity is necessary to the development of men's virtues. I will choose a strong position and await the flood. It will not be long in coming. The Russians, I doubt not, when their arrangements along the railway are complete, will advance at the same time from east, west, and south, driving me against the spears of the Cossacks hiding behind the railway to the north. I have only 600 men left. There has been much fighting since you left, honoured sir; my men are exhausted with constant marching and insufficient food. It is not easy to stop the fire when water is at a distance."

Jack found that the Russian prisoners were no longer with the Chunchuses. Ah Lum had been glad to exchange them against as many of his band captured during the recent fight. But for this exchange his force would have been even smaller than it was. He was hopelessly outnumbered by the Russians, each of whose columns was about 1200 strong. Their horses were in good condition; and the work of chasing the Chunchuses having devolved on one only of the columns at a time, the Cossacks were not so much worn out as their quarry, who had been kept moving constantly.

Ah Lum and Jack discussed the situation in great detail. There seemed indeed no way out. To fight or to disband: those were the alternatives, each fraught with peril if not disaster. Another fight would probably be the last, for the Russians would hardly make a serious attack until they had the wily brigand who had given them so much trouble completely surrounded. With perhaps 5000 men engaged on one side and only 600 on the other there was but one result to be expected.

If the gap to the north had really been a gap--if the Russians had been as stupid as they wished Ah Lum to believe--there would still have been a chance. The chief explained that far to the north, in the high hills above the lower valley of the Mu-tan-chiang, he might hope to elude pursuit for an indefinite period. It was a wild, mountainous, almost uninhabited country, in which the only difficulty would be that of subsistence, not of hiding. But a Chunchuse can live on much less than a Cossack, little though the latter requires. If only Ah Lum could have gained those hills, he could have shown a clean pair of heels to his pursuers.

Regrets, however, were useless. "It is no good climbing a tree to hunt for fish." The appearance of the Chunchuses within twenty miles of the railway would be the signal for a simultaneous movement of squadron upon squadron of Cossacks from east and west, while the three columns now closing upon them would seize the opportunity of occupying the passes in their rear, hemming them within a small circle where they would soon be annihilated.

"No," said Ah Lum, "I can only eat my three meals in the day and look forward to sleeping at night. It is impossible to stand on two ships at once. I shall stay here, occupy the approaches on each side, and fight to the last gasp. Death has no terror for me. I can eat my rice looking towards heaven. My only trouble is my son, my only son Ah Fu. If I die, he will die; who then will do honour to my bones? True, I shall be remembered; as the scream of the eagle is heard when she has passed over, so a man's name remains after his death. But my cooking-range will go to a stranger; the ancestral tablets of my family will be broken; there will be none to sacrifice to my manes. And the boy: why should he be cut off? The growth of a mulberry-tree corresponds with its early bent. Ah Fu is a good boy, as you know, honoured sir. He is brave; I love him, and have been liberal in punishment, as the sage advises; his intelligence, though but a grain of millet, will in due time grow green to the height of a horse's head. I looked for him to endure the nine days' examination and write verses worthy of high office. Ai! ai!"

Through the scholar's pedantries Jack saw the man's heart throbbing. He expressed his sympathy.

"Wah!" returned Ah Lum. "Calamity comes from heaven. After the pig has been killed it is useless to speak of the price. I have done all I can. The one thing remaining is to meet the inevitable end with dignity. But as for you, honoured sir, you have done enough. I do not ask you to stay. You have your own quest to follow. Let every man sweep the snow from before his own doors, and not heed the frost on his neighbour's tiles."

"You are right, chief," said Jack. "But it has not come to that yet. There may be a way out even yet, and you have been so kind to me that I should not think of leaving you while there is any hope at all."

Ah Lum's remark about the possibility of evading pursuit if he could reach the farther side of the railway had set Jack thinking. Was there no way out of his strait? Could the Russians, he wondered, be led off the scent, thus gaining time for the band to make a dash across the line? In the privacy of his little hut of kowliang stalks Jack pondered the problem long. But the more he thought, the less feasible the thing appeared. The railway gave the Russians so great a mobility: they could move troops so quickly up and down it, and now that the main armies were for the time quiescent, they had so many men available, that with only 600 Chunchuses there seemed no hope of such a dash being successful. He racked his brains far into the night. As the hours drew on, it became very cold; the north wind struck keenly. Looking around for an additional garment, Jack saw a military cloak, part of the stock of clothing captured from the Cossacks. He put it on, and tramped up and down, thinking and thinking again. The fur-lined cloak warmed him, by and by he became hot with the excitement of an idea. He rolled himself up in the cloak and tried to sleep, but his eyes were still unclosed when the chill dawn stole over the mountains. With racking head he sought an interview with the chief. For some hours they remained in earnest consultation. When the talk was ended Ah Lum rubbed his hands together and said:

"If you succeed, honoured friend, we shall certainly escape the net. The task you have set yourself is difficult. It is like feeling after a pin on the bottom of the ocean. But whether you succeed or not, we shall owe you an unfathomable debt of gratitude. Choose what men you need; all will be proud to serve under you."

Then, weary but light of heart, Jack returned to his hut and slept.

*CHAPTER XXII*

*Capturing a Locomotive*

Overdue--A Special--The Vladivostok Train--The Sound of a Whistle--An Interrupted Message--A Correction--Bound East

"The fair at Wu-chi-mi will be well attended this month. I have not had so many bookings for a long time."

The station-master at Mao-shan looked appreciatively at the motley gathering. With true oriental patience they had come at least an hour before the train was due, and in Manchuria that was probably two hours before it would arrive. Flanked by the enormous bundles and parcels that in the East represent personal luggage, they were squatting on rugs and mats under the station shed, waiting for the gates leading on to the platform to be opened.

"I only hope there'll be room for them all. But it's wonderful how tight these Chinamen can pack. And they haven't far to go. The long-distance passengers will grumble."

The waiting crowd was not really large, but the station was small. There might be seventy or eighty in all--men, women, and children. Some of them were chattering volubly in their high-pitched voices; others were stolidly smoking or doing nothing at all. One big, burly fellow was joining in a game of knuckle-stones with a bright-looking boy, the man playing with the deepest solemnity, the child bubbling with merriment as he got the better of his elder. All were protected from the cold by garments so thickly wadded that the heads of the people looked entirely out of proportion to their bulk of body.

"It's extraordinary," continued the station-master, who was doing the most of the talking, his companion, a tall captain of Cossacks wearing long felt boots, a large fur hat, and a fur-lined cloak up to his ears, interjecting only an occasional brief word--"it's extraordinary, your nobility, how the Chinese have taken to the railway. When I came here four years ago, the most of them looked on it with suspicion, even dread; now they use it as freely as the folk in Moscow or Petersburg. But this is a poor district hereabouts, and they can't afford to travel much, though it's cheap enough, goodness knows."

"She's late, is she not?" enquired the captain, breaking into the official's monologue. "It's past eight"--glancing at the station clock.

"True, little father. Half an hour late at Hsiao-ten-shan-ling, and that's less than usual. She may make up five or ten minutes; it is downhill on the whole. But the government is keeping a sharp eye on the fuel. They won't burn extra to make up lost time; and for the matter of that, there's no need. The only train that mattered ran through two hours ago."

"Ah! a special?"

The station-master dropped his voice, as if fearful of being heard by the Chinese outside the barrier.

"Yes, a special. We were warned by telegraph not to let the news spread among the natives. But seeing you are an officer, there's no harm in mentioning there were three hundred of your own men--Cossacks, and a sprinkling of Siberian Rifles. I suppose you are going on the same errand?"

There was much curiosity in the station-master's voice. He was himself a soldier, and keenly interested in military matters, in which, indeed, he was more at home than in the routine of railway work. A green-coated railway sentinel passed and saluted. The captain, who was unknown to the station-master, had ridden in from Ho-ni-ho-tzue an hour before, and purchased a ticket for Hai-lin, the station for Ninguta. He had been anything but communicative, much to the chagrin of the official, to whom a gossip was the sole distraction in a very monotonous existence, exiled as he was in this out-of-the-way station. His curiosity had been aroused by the fact that the captain was leaving his horse in his charge. It was to be put on board the Harbin train when that officer returned.

"Yes," the captain replied, "the same errand."

"Ah Lum?"

"Da, da! Ah Lum. There will soon be a strong force at Ninguta."

"There must be nearly a thousand there now, to say nothing of the three hundred that passed through this morning, and as many yesterday morning. They are running them very quickly, for the empty train passed here on the way back to Harbin on the afternoon of the same day. We don't often make such running on this railway. It's more like old days on the Warsaw section. I was there before I came here. The Paris express--that is a train if you like. Although they do say that they run even faster in England. Of course that's a lie; they are all liars, the English. That's well known, is it not, little father?"

"What's that yonder?" said the officer instead of replying.

The station-master looked in the direction indicated. Nearly a mile away a cart, drawn by mules and ponies, was hurrying from the neighbourhood of Ho-ni-ho-tzue towards the station.

"Another passenger, I suspect," said the station-master. "And he'd better hurry, for there's the train at last."

A thin white riband of vapour was just visible against the blue sky, floating above the hills to the west.

"He won't catch it," said the officer.

"I sha'n't keep it for him," returned the official. "But he may just do it. He's cut it rather fine for a Chinaman. The train's late as it is; should have been half-way to Wu-chi-mi by this time."

As he spoke, the engine came in sight round a curve of the hilly track. The Chinamen in waiting rose to their feet, grasped their bundles, and closed up against the barrier. Three riflemen emerged from their little blockhouse and began to patrol the platform; two or three station attendants appeared. A few seconds later the huge train, looking far too large for the station, rumbled in and came to a stop. It consisted of several old and shaky carriages already well filled with passengers, and one saloon in the centre. The few passengers for Mao-shan alighted and passed through the barrier; then the waiting crowd surged through and hurried along the platform in search of vacant places, which seemed hard to find.

A train attendant handed an official-looking paper to the station-master, who passed with it into his office; there was a signature to affix. Two of the Chinese passengers followed him as he left the platform; two others halted near the attendant. There were cries from the officials to the Chinamen to take their seats. Meanwhile the Cossack captain had sauntered into the room of the telegraph operator, and half a dozen Chinamen, having, it seemed, failed to discover vacant places in the forward carriages, were moving on towards the engine, followed by the voluble protest of one of the riflemen, who hurried after them to bring them back. Two or three, among them the big man and the boy who had been playing knuckle-stones, were peering in at the windows of the saloon carriage, apparently in great curiosity to see the occupants.

By this time the rest of the passengers had squeezed themselves into the already crowded compartments. Faces were pressed against all the windows; there was much speculation as to the chance of the belated passenger in the cart catching the train, its progress being eagerly watched, and the Chinamen in the carriages betting freely on the event.

Suddenly a shrill whistle rang out from the room of the telegraph operator. There was an instant change of scene. Here and there along the platform, groups of Chinamen, who a moment before had all the guise of peaceable passengers, threw themselves with startling rapidity upon the officials and the riflemen. There was a series of brief swift struggles; a revolver shot was heard; but that was all. Inside and outside of the train the guard and attendants were in a few seconds bound and helpless; the men who had gone forward to the engine grappled with the driver and fireman; the station-master was tied up in his own office. The passengers, alarmed and apprehensive, were staring open-mouthed at the proceedings. The door of the saloon carriage was thrown open, and there appeared at it two men, one a tall long-bearded Russian officer, whose uniform betokened high rank, the other a fair hook-nosed civilian, who stared round the other's shoulder.

"What is this, what is this?" cried the officer, stepping out of the train revolver in hand.

The last word was hardly out of his mouth when the burly Chinaman hurled himself at the Russian's knees from behind; he fell backwards; the revolver was wrenched from his hand, and the Chinaman held him pinned to the platform. His companion meanwhile had run back into the saloon; before he could slam the door the Chinese boy interposed, flinging himself flat on the floor of the doorway. Two Chinamen forced their way in, and did not reappear.

The prostrate officer was now trussed up. His captor had given a brief order to the rest of the assailants, now ranged along the platform awaiting instructions. At once they boarded the train, and peremptorily ordered the passengers to alight. Then the Chinamen found their tongues; there was a great hubbub and commotion among them; their first hesitation was quickly overcome by the pistol butts of the bandits, who hastened their exit by ruthless and well-directed kicks and buffets. One of the passengers, a heavy man, roared an imprecation and showed fight; but he was matched in size by the big fellow who had tackled the officer, and who now, his work with him being finished, seized the protester and flung him out on to the platform. Bruised and shaken, he rolled over and squatted on his hams; there was no more fight in him.

As soon as the train came to a standstill the Cossack officer had entered the little room of the telegraphist, and at a sign from him the Chinaman close behind him blew the shrill blast on a whistle that had been the signal for the attack.

"Excuse me," said the captain, "I have a message to send."

The operator, interrupted in the midst of a message, was startled by the abrupt entrance of the soldier, the sudden whistle, and the sharp crack of a revolver immediately following. He looked round, half-rising from his chair, his hand still on the key of the instrument.

"Finish your message," said the officer quietly. His uniform, his calm air of authority, impressed the man. Dropping back into his seat he ticked off the remainder of his message: it was merely a service intimation of the arrival of the train. The sounds of commotion on the platform were increasing; when the operator had finished he said:

"Is there a fight, your nobility? Perhaps I ought to assist. We are a small staff."

"No. Stay where you are. It is all over. Now please, my message. To Wu-chi-mi----"

"But, your nobility, if you will write the despatch out--we are not allowed----"

"There is no time for that. At once, if you please."

The man still hesitated: the officer sternly continued:

"My business will not admit of a moment's delay. You can attend to formalities afterwards."

"Well, your nobility, if you insist---- But you will take the responsibility?"

"Certainly. Call up Wu-chi-mi, if you please."

The man ticked off the call. There was an immediate reply.

"Say this: 'Station on fire'----"

The operator almost sprang from his stool; his eyes were wide with alarm.

"But----"

"You heard what I said. 'Station on fire!'"

A pistol's cold muzzle at the man's ear sent him cowering to his post. Pale to the lips, with trembling fingers he ticked off the words. It was clear that the officer could follow his rapid movements, for he suddenly pointed the pistol full at his brow, saying:

"That is enough: recall your last word; another mistake of the kind may cost you your life."

Seeing that his attempt to warn the operator at the other end had been detected, the man corrected the word.

"Now add: 'Vladivostok train can get through; expect temporary cessation of messages: will try to save instruments'. That will do."

The man sank back, and wiped his clammy brow. The officer turned to the Chinaman, beckoning him forward. In his arms he bore a bulky parcel. At a sign from the captain he placed the bundle beneath the operator's desk; opening it, he disclosed a heap of greasy shavings. He struck a match and set light to the pile; the man sprang from his chair and made for the door, but was caught and held by the Chinaman. Dismantling the apparatus, the officer gave it into the free hand of his follower; then, the room being full of smoke, he hurried out to the platform, the cowed and bewildered official being pushed along in front.

Only a few minutes had elapsed since the train came to a stop at the platform. As the captain emerged, the cart which had been sighted in the distance had just arrived. While twenty men stood with levelled revolvers overawing the crowd, a dozen muscular bandits hauled crowbars, spades, and long spanners from the cart across the platform into the brake-van, and the noticeably big man carefully carried a small box to the saloon carriage. At a sign from the captain, a gang of the Chinamen had hurried up the line some distance from the station and were now cutting the wires in two places a hundred yards apart. Breaking open the store-room, yet another group found what they were evidently in search of: a reserve instrument and a heavy coil of wire. These, with the wire cut from the line, with which the other men came hastening up, were bundled into the train; and within a quarter of an hour from the beginning of the attack the brigands were aboard, the Cossack captain was in the cab of the locomotive, and, watched by the ejected passengers in silent amazement, the train rumbled slowly out of the station.

*CHAPTER XXIII*

*From Mao-shan to Imien-po*

Wrecking a Bridge--Through Wu-chi-mi--More Dynamite--At Imien-po--Clearing the Line--Pelion upon Ossa--A Puff of Smoke--Two Minutes' Grace

Jack felt an extraordinary sense of exhilaration as the train, gathering speed, rolled eastward over the single track towards Wu-chi-mi. The country was hilly. The line at this point is some 900 feet above sea-level, but although there are steep gradients the main altitude for a considerable distance varies little. Jack was satisfied at first with a speed of about thirty miles an hour--a speed indeed rarely exceeded on the railway--for the curves are at times very sharp, and not knowing the line he felt that there was some risk of running the train off the metals. More than once, keeping a sharp look-out, he had to shut off steam and apply the brakes at a particularly ugly corner. His hobnobbing with railwaymen during the construction of the line was now bearing fruit; and he remembered with a curious pleasure, even while he kept his hand on the regulator handle and his eye on the gauges, a saying of his father's: "Never lose a chance of picking up odd bits of information: you never know when they may come in handy". He had not actually driven a locomotive before, but he had often ridden in the cab, and watched the driver, so that he felt no nervousness at having the Alexander the Second under his control.