In silence the sailors were led across the drawbridge, Phil noticing the severed chains which had allowed the bridge to fall in place, and then they were inside the city. No signs of life were visible, and the open doors and windows of the houses showed plainly that the Chinese had departed suddenly, fearing the shells of the foreigners. “To the yamen, Langdon,” Lieutenant Wilson cried eagerly. Then as the pilot pointed out the direction: “Fix bayonets!” The rasping of the three hundred bayonets as they were adjusted on the rifles lasted for half a minute and then Lieutenant Wilson added sharply, “Forward, double time.” At a run the rescuing column swept along the narrow street. Phil and Sydney eagerly raced ahead, followed closely by the lieutenant and Langdon. After but a few minutes the midshipmen reached the gateway of the yamen. An exclamation of grave concern from Sydney caused his companions to cast anxious glances toward the expansive parade grounds in front of the yamen gate. The sight that met their eyes was indeed disconcerting. They had expected no more than feeble resistance, but there before them, drawn up as if on parade, was a vast army of Chinese soldiers. “What’s the meaning of this?” Lieutenant Wilson asked falteringly, coming to a sudden stop, while his men gazed in wonder at the thousands of well-armed soldiers, apparently in battle array, awaiting the word to begin the fight. “It means that viceroy Chang-Li-Hun has overshot his bolt,” Langdon returned joyfully; “these men are of another province. Do you see their yellow plumes? The viceroy’s soldiers wear red. “Sent by Peking,” he added. “It means the viceroy is to be brought to account by his government.” While Langdon was speaking, a horseman rode rapidly toward the Americans. Langdon walked out quickly to meet him when he drew rein at the edge of the roadway, and immediately addressed him in his own language. Then, after a few moments’ rapid talk, he turned to the lieutenant, a broad smile on his face. “Just as I supposed. They are here to suppress outlaws. His general has gone to the forts to confer with Hang-Ki. He says the viceroy has refused to receive him.” “Tell him,” Lieutenant Wilson said hurriedly, “that four of our sailors are held prisoners in the yamen, and that I am going to enter by force if they refuse to open the gate.” “He says his men will not interfere,” the pilot returned, after a few hurried words with the Chinese officer. “In fact, I believe they’d gladly help us. This viceroy is not popular with the Manchus.” Without more ado Lieutenant Wilson knocked loudly on the gate with the butt of his revolver. There followed a whispered consultation from beyond the gate and then a small slit slid back suddenly, revealing a pair of almond eyes, peering out suspiciously.