Phil could have wept with disappointment. On the threshold of safety, they found their escape cut off. His mind sought for a way to overcome the difficulties. Ignacio’s launch was at the landing. Why could they not overpower the crew and escape in it? But he soon saw that this plan would be worse than foolhardy. They could not expect to pass the alert gunboat, and once alongside, the strategy would be discovered. But what else could be done? A junk was out of the question, for the wind was contrary, blowing up the river, and before they could hope to pass the forts, daylight would reveal them and the Chinese guns would soon make them return and surrender or else they would be sunk. The longer the Americans remained on shore the smaller were the chances for escape; it was but a matter of time before their absence from the yamen would be known. While the lad pondered wildly on a method of escape he saw the Chinaman Nam-Sing attract Langdon’s attention and then fairly explode in a volley of excited words. “He says that one of the launches is not so badly damaged,” the pilot whispered to Phil. “It’s a steam launch, but under the stern-boards is a small gasoline engine, and he thinks the mob did not destroy that, for it is hidden from view.” “Come on!” Phil exclaimed eagerly. Then he cast an uncertain look at the captive whom Sydney had bound hand and foot, securing a gag in his mouth and muffling his ears so that he could hear only the loudest tones. “We must leave him behind,” Langdon insisted immediately, interpreting the glance. “He must take his chances.” “I don’t dare leave him there,” Phil exclaimed. “He might be killed by the Chinese. No, the consequences would be too serious.” “Then what are we to do?” the pilot asked impatiently. “He would as soon stick a knife in you if you were in his power.” “I know,” Phil declared stoutly, “but I am going to get him on board his own ship.” “But how on earth can you?” Langdon exclaimed in disgust at Phil’s leniency. If the pilot could have had his way he would have wrung his neck then and there, which punishment the foreigner doubtless deserved. Phil did not reply immediately. A bold plan had flashed through his mind, and he was rapidly revolving it in his thoughts to discover if it was feasible. “Tell the Chinese to carry the prisoner,” he said finally, his mind fully made up to attempt the one scheme which seemed to give the foreign commander a chance for his life. If he left him in the foreign concession his life would not be worth a copper cash when the robbers from the city came back to complete their ghoulish work. Langdon trusted Phil’s judgment too thoroughly to demur, so he quietly gave Nam-Sing his orders, and then the three Americans started, cautiously leading the way down the alley and out upon the street running toward the river.