The anxious lads quickly cut the ropes and lowered the insensible man to the floor. Then removing the irons they worked over him anxiously while the time passed on winged feet. Finally the pilot opened his eyes and stared at the lads with angry, sullen eyes, making a futile attempt to speak. “You miserable coward,” he finally managed to say in a thick whisper. “I hope some day you’ll be treated as you’ve treated me.” The midshipmen were at first so taken aback that they were silent. Then the comical part of the tragedy appealed to them and in that instant Langdon recognized his rescuers. “We’ve got him now in almost the same condition that you were in,” Phil whispered. The pilot gazed in wonder at the midshipmen. Raising a trembling hand he passed it over his eyes uncertainly, as if he would sweep away the delusion. “What does it mean?” he asked weakly. “It means that we are for the time free,” Phil answered; “but come, we must start. If we delay Ta-Ling may be missed and a search for him would spoil all. Can you walk?” he asked solicitously. “In a minute,” the pilot replied. “Help me to my feet. I’d have been gone in a half hour more,” he added, feeling his sore and swollen throat. The lads helped him to his feet and he stood unsteadily, leaning his great weight on their shoulders. “It was partly our fault,” Sydney said apologetically; “he no doubt intended coming back and lowering you; but we couldn’t allow him to leave our cell.” After a few minutes more to permit Langdon to regain his strength and give the blood a chance to circulate into his cramped limbs, Phil made the motion to follow, and all three noiselessly filed out into the courtyard and entered the cell where the Chinamen were lying. The interpreter’s breathing showed that he would soon regain his senses. Langdon glared triumphantly down upon the villain who would gladly kill all the foreigners within the Chinese Empire. “He’s not half gagged,” he exclaimed in a hoarse whisper. Then he untied the gag which the lads had made and jammed the mandarin’s mouth full of his own clothing, binding it in with a tight bandage. After rearranging the jailer’s gag, he arose and gloated over the fallen favorite of the viceroy. Phil had torn open the telegram and in the dim light scanned it anxiously. Then he drew from his pocket a pencil and in silence wrote the key word above the words of the message. Sydney regarded him in a fever of excitement. Finally Phil’s pencil was still and he looked up with a white, anxious face. “I’d like to destroy it, but I don’t dare,” he said. Then he read in a voice trembling with emotion: “Department condemns your actions in entering To-Yan Lake and attacking Chinese soldiers. Proceed immediately back to Ku-Ling and offer ample apology to viceroy. Consider yourself relieved of your command.” If a shell had exploded in their midst the eager listeners could not have been more surprised.