Phil marched by Langdon’s side; his blood warmed for adventure, and he hoped that this time he would be able to see and enjoy the fighting. During the few minutes in the attack on Lien-Chow, he had been so much occupied in forcing Commander Ignacio to charge the enemy that he had failed to take note of all save the sound of the bullets as they had whistled past him. He rejoiced in the coolness and tact shown on all occasions by his friend Langdon; his duty was not to fight, yet he was ever eager to risk his life wherever Commander Hughes suggested. The Americans moved steadily onward, Langdon time and again leaving the narrow road to circle a small hamlet with its shading willow trees in an endeavor to avoid the discovering bark of the always-present Chinese dog. Fortunately the countryside was deserted; there were no travelers on the road to flee and give warning of the approaching band of hostiles. As the distance to the mission diminished, the sailors grasped their rifles more firmly, ever expecting to hear the discharges and see the flashes of the guns of an ambushing enemy. While the expedition was ascending a small hill covered with the graves of centuries of China’s dead, Langdon turned quietly to his captain and pointed to an indistinct mass coming in sight beyond the ridge ahead of them. “The mission,” he whispered; then he stopped in his tracks, while those behind pressed forward eagerly to know the cause. The metallic bark of a Colt gun rang out distantly on the quiet evening air, accompanied by the duller rattle of musketry. The mission was already being attacked. CHAPTER XXI TO THE RESCUE OF THE MISSION The ominous sound of strife sent shivers up and down Phil’s spine; the mission was surrounded by a force far in excess of the handful guarding the helpless ones inside its wall; but the droning sound of the Colt gun was reassuring; it showed that Lieutenant Wilson had been on the alert, and he knew that officer well enough to believe that he would sacrifice himself and every man with him before the women and children were allowed to fall into the hands of the cruel Chinese mob. These thoughts flashed through Phil’s mind while the sailors quickened their pace in obedience to Commander Hughes’ orders. Reaching the crest of the hill, Phil gazed with his companions through the darkness down upon the valley between the mission hill and the one on which they were standing. “Don’t deploy yet,” Langdon cautioned in a whisper to the American commander, who, he observed, was on the point of forming for the attack; “we must cross the bridge over that irrigation ditch in the middle of the valley; you can see the shadow of willows along it from here. Once across that, all will be clear ground between us and the mission.”