The lad’s heart stood still as it flashed upon him what his duty demanded of him. If he were a second too late he would be blown to pieces and yet the gates would be shattered and useless to protect the mission. His mind was made up quickly: he must first warn the garrison and then quench the fatal spark twenty feet below him. “Turn out the guard!” he cried loudly; then as he heard the startled sentries repeat his words, he dropped silently to the ground on the outside of the compound and grasped the lighted end of the fuse between his fingers, but a few inches from its awful goal. He heard the startled cries of his companions awakened from their sleep by the alarming summons; the rattle of rifles and accoutrements as the sailors hastened to their stations on the wall. The reaction had now set in; the boy’s limbs seemed about to fail him. Almost unstrung he clung to the box while he collected his scattered thoughts. If the box remained there the enemy might yet succeed in exploding its contents against the gate. With his body pressed close to the torpedo, and in its deeper shadow, his ear detected a sound near him in the grass at the edge of the road. Suddenly a figure darted forward across the archway and stopped on the other side of the box, fumbling with its top, as if to relight the fuse. Phil held his breath as he reached forth his hand and clutched the wrist of the intruder. Drawing the surprised man, with all his force, across the box, he threw him to the ground. A cry escaped the captive as he felt the strong arms of the midshipman enfold him, smothering him to the earth. The two bodies heaved and strained; the efforts of the Chinaman became visibly weaker, and finally Phil cast the insensible form from him. “Who goes there?” in excited tones from above him showed him that aid was near. A sailor peered over the wall immediately above the lad’s head, his menacing rifle covering the exhausted boy. “It’s Midshipman Perry, the officer of the guard,” he whispered hoarsely; “heave me a line, quick! Keep the gate closed! The place is full of Chinese!” A rope dangled down from a corner of the archway and Phil, grasping its end, quickly made it fast around the box, giving the signal to hoist. “Be careful, that’s powder,” he cautioned; “send the end back for me. Hurry,” he added, casting a fearsome look into the shadows behind him. With the end of the rope in his hand he stooped down to tie it about the body of his captive; when, without a moment’s warning, he felt a stinging blow in the face, that sent him reeling to the wall. He clutched wildly at the offender, now on his feet and struggling madly to free himself from the terrifying embrace of the midshipman. The fully recovered celestial fought with the strength of despair, uttering piercing shrieks which seemed to be answered from the surrounding darkness.