When we had marched for about half an hour and had crossed the Song-Soï, a little stream which runs into the Song-Thuong a few miles below Bo-Ha, we perceived, a hundred yards ahead of us, a small detachment, consisting of six _tirailleurs_, led by a European mounted on a native pony. I was one of the first to catch sight of them, for at the time I was in charge of the vanguard, which was composed of two natives. When we were close enough to get a good look at them, my surprise was great on recognising in the cavalier my friend Lipthay. When our mutual greetings and congratulations were over, he told me that he was out surveying the route with a view to determining the best positions for the poles of a telegraph line about to be established between Nha-Nam and the fort we had just left. "I have done enough for to-day," said my chum, "and can easily finish the job in a couple of hours to-morrow morning. I will go and report to the sergeant, and come back to Nha-Nam with you." A few minutes later he was riding beside me as I walked, and I was asking him many questions concerning all that had happened since I left, and as to when the operations were likely to begin; for now that he was on the District staff I knew he was likely to be well informed on these subjects. "Well, things have been pretty lively during the last two months," he answered. "Captain Plessier has been keeping the company at Nha-Nam busy with reconnaissances and ambuscades, but there has been no serious engagement since the little affair at Long-Thuong, at which you were present. We made a grand _coup_ at the beginning of last month, though, for we succeeded in finding a position rendering the enemy's big fort visible; a position on which it will not be difficult to place a battery of fieldguns, able to wish a better '_bonjour_' to our rebel friends than those little toy pop-guns of the mountain artillery. What a pity old De-Nam is dead! He would have been so surprised when the first 90-millimètre shells came with a flop and a bang right into his secret lair; and from quite an unexpected quarter, too. Why----" "_Bon Dieu! mon ami_," I interrupted, "have pity on me and go slow. Do you mean to say the old chief is dead?" "Dead as Cæsar," answered my friend. "He was poisoned in October by some Chinese who came down from the north to sell arms and ammunition. They were his guests, and killed him because he won back all the money he had paid them at _bacquang_ (a native game called _fan-tan_ in Chinese). So the spies who came to Thaï-Nguyen told us. _Dans tous les cas_, he is dead, and was buried inside the big fort with great state; and De-Tam, his former lieutenant, is now commander-in-chief." "But do you really mean to say that there is such a position as you have described?" I asked, for from my experience of the manner in which the rebels concealed their forts, such a thing seemed quite impossible.