Then the war began. After this first slight engagement there was a rare ado with the Revolutionary army and supporters as the victorious regiments marched into the city, and this victory over Chang Piao and his men, apart from having the effect of completely routing the enemy, added a tremendous stimulus to the fighting line of the Republicans, and they were then itching for another scrap. {59} The Loyalists had come down from Peking. They were expected to turn over to the Revolutionists. But they did not--they intended to fight, and to fight hard. In the first engagement, however, after having had taken from them their bullion with which the troops were to be paid, their rice and supplies by which the men were to be fed, the ammunition by which the throne was to be kept secure, and much else in the way of impedimenta of warfare, they retired crestfallen and moved some considerable distance down the river. [Illustration: TYPICAL REVOLUTIONARIES. Changed by love of country and passion for freedom from downtrodden coolies to enthusiastic soldiers.] Before dawn on the morning of October 20th I took my launch down towards Kilometre Ten, the Revolutionary base, where the Loyalists were said to have crept up during the night. It looked as if they had regained courage, and were to put up another fight. I found a party of Revolutionary recruits and regulars, all having a good time, whilst lessons were being given to the raw material in the art of using the rifle. The target was a couple of pigs, and into the hides of these two innocent porkers the recruits were endeavouring to discharge their bullets. Passing them, I followed on through a road which at one time had been the main entrance to the station, all being now in anything but perfect order, into the station, where some fifteen hundred troops were assembled on the platform and in the adjoining ground--the scene of the recent battle. To my companion (representing the _New York Herald)_ and myself the Revolutionists were most courteous. Whilst we preferred to stand, they bade us to be seated, a couple leading us to a point on the platform where was seated the Commander-in-Chief of the Field Forces, a portly fellow, full and hearty, typically Chinese, delighted to see us. Down below were the field-guns and the dark-clad troops, battered railway trucks, officers' horses grazing by the line, men rushing hither and thither, all enthusiastic upon getting {60} something done and wasting no time. But here was the Commander-in-Chief--the Buller of the campaign--calm, quiet, courteous, extending to me with the simplicity of a boy the usual Chinese felicities. He was seated in his official war-chair, had upon him all the paraphernalia of war, and waited as he talked with me for his scouts to return before he could make up his mind what the day's programme was to be.