"Massa," he cried, "my look-see plenty piecee Chunchu come this-side chop-chop, galaw!" *CHAPTER XV* *Fortifying the Gully* Stopping a Rush—The Trappers Trapped—Allies—A Manchu Marksman—A Sighting Shot—Building a Barrier—Velly Good Fighty Man—Ah-Sam at the Front Mrs. Pottle grasped her umbrella as Bob sprang up, leapt over the boulders, and hurried to the mouth of the ravine. In the distance, to the right, he saw a band of mounted men, about sixty in number, easily recognizable by their nondescript dress and long lances as the redoubtable bandits of Manchuria. They disappeared in the bend of the valley. Again they emerged into view, now only a quarter of a mile away, heading straight for the gully over the trail of the cart. Bob hurried back to his place behind the boulders, and took the rifle handed him by Ah-Sam, who retained the other. "You won’t kill them if you can help it, will you?" said Ethel, whose cheeks had become a little pale. "Nonsense, Ethel," interrupted Mrs. Pottle; "don’t be sentimental. I don’t wish them any harm, but—" She did not finish the sentence, for at this moment the horsemen arrived at the mouth of the gully, and halted, evidently in some hesitation, as though fearing a trap. Their leaders spoke together for a few moments; then the whole band dismounted, and, leaving their horses in charge of some of their number, began to climb up the gorge. Bob felt that it was high time to check them. "Call, Ah-Sam," he said, "and tell them that if they move another step forward I fire." "Hai yah!" shouted the Chinaman. The little man had a shrill piercing voice, and his exclamation brought the bandits to a sudden halt two hundred yards beneath. He then gave them in Chinese Bob’s message, and as he spoke, they strained their eyes upward as if to pierce the barricade. There was a short consultation among them, and then one of them advanced a step and shouted a reply. "What does he say?" asked Bob. "One piecee Chunchu say-lo, ’Come this-side, ha-loy! he no killum China-boy, two piecee girley; massa fightee man, he catchee ling-ch’ih’." "What’s that?" asked Bob. Ah-Sam looked puzzled; his vocabulary was evidently for the moment at a loss. Then he said: "Ling-ch’ih he killum velly velly slow; he cuttee slicee allo littee piecee: velly long-tim’ die-lo galaw!—velly annoying!" Mrs. Pottle gathered the gist of what Ah-Sam said, and burst forth in great indignation. "The fiends! I will not allow it. They are arrant cowards. Drive them off. They were frightened of my umbrella. You shall not fall into their power through us. Drive them off!"