What should he do? He could advance no further in the face of that rifle fire. Glancing anxiously behind him, he saw the midshipmen and their men were nowhere in view, and yet they had been only a half hundred paces behind when he had charged down the alley. The sailors were returning the furious fire of the Chinese, but O’Neil saw that the enemy was hidden and the spatter of their bullets against the wall behind the Americans showed him only too plainly that even the poor shots of the Chinese might accidentally make a hit. Reluctantly he ordered a retreat back through the arched passageway. As O’Neil and his men again reached the second courtyard, across which he had chased the fleeing Chinamen, he saw the midshipmen and their party surrounding several objects upon the ground, which had been covered over with a large piece of canvas. “They are safe,” Sydney’s voice hailed as he caught sight of the returning sailors. “You ran right over them.” The prisoners were quickly freed from their manacles, and, supported by their comrades, the party hastened to rejoin Lieutenant Wilson. The four sailors had had a narrow escape. Ta-Ling, determined upon revenge, had been upon the point of beheading them when O’Neil and his men had caused him to desist. Then covering them hurriedly with a large piece of canvas, he hoped to conceal their presence until the Americans had given up their search, when he would return and finish his diabolical work. But the curiosity of an American had defeated his plan; for raising the corner of the canvas the sailor had seen the blue-clad legs of a bound and gagged shipmate. Arriving in the main courtyard, Phil’s eye caught the bright color of a Chinese mandarin’s clothes, their wearer standing at Lieutenant Wilson’s side. “Hang-Ki!” he exclaimed joyfully as he recognized the Tartar general’s erect form. The two midshipmen hastened to the Manchu’s side and shook hands with him warmly. Hang-Ki had been patiently waiting for Langdon’s return to interpret his words to the American lieutenant. Another mandarin stood by Hang-Ki’s side, his rugged frame indicating clearly that he also was of Tartar blood, from which race the military leaders of China are taken. The midshipmen waited impatiently to hear what Hang-Ki had to tell, while Lieutenant Wilson congratulated all hands upon the success of the rescue, and shook hands as all had done with the rescued men. “His Excellency says the viceroy killed himself early this morning; the captain of the yamen guards brought him the news, but it did not arrive in time to hoist the white flag before the monitor had fired her shell. He says many men were hurt during the night engagement and asks how many Americans were killed.” “Tell him we’ve lost only one man in all the fighting,” Lieutenant Wilson replied. Hang-Ki, after Langdon had given him Lieutenant Wilson’s words, shook his head as though mystified.