Yells of exultation and defiance burst from the throats of the defenders, now at last able to give vent to the feelings pent up during hours of silent waiting. The leader was eager to spring across the breastwork and slaughter the wounded wretches, whose groans were heard as the tumult subsided. Bob hauled him back by main force, and ordered him to send out a few scouts to discover whether the Cossacks were within striking distance. Learning soon that the enemy had all retreated beyond the hill, he posted five men at intervals about four hundred yards out to keep watch, and proceeded to attend to the wounded. Among the defenders only one man had been hurt by the bayonet of a gallant Russian, who had come right up to the wall and fallen dead beneath a Chunchuse bullet. But in and around the trench there were twenty-eight prone forms, and of these Bob soon saw that eleven had keen killed outright. They were partly Russians, partly Manchus. As Bob went along the trench, carefully examining the survivors in turn, he came upon one lying on his right side, and groaning. He turned the man over, and started—even in the dim light he fancied he recognized his features. Thrilling with expectancy he went to the man’s other side and stooped to him. Yes, the right ear was gone; it was without doubt the Manchu, Chang-Wo! Bob rose, and calling to Ah-Sam, bade him carry the wounded man within the barricade; he himself followed, wondering at the strange fate which had connected him with the Manchu ever since his arrival in Japan. He was perplexed as to what could be done for the rest of the injured, whose moans gave him many a pang. He was in no position to deal with them—he had no surgical appliances, no food; yet he could not leave them to perish miserably. What could he do? A thought struck him. Why not deliver them to their own friends? It might be difficult; neither party could trust the other; but he was determined that it should be attempted, even though the Russians regarded it as a trap. With Ah-Sam’s assistance he explained the matter to the leader of the Chunchuses, whose name, he learnt, was Sing-Cheng. The man was wholly at a loss to understand Bob’s object. He had acquiesced unwillingly in the order not to butcher the wounded, partly because he knew they would probably die of themselves if left. But that they should actually be given up, living, to their comrades, seemed to him a foolish proposal. Why had they been shot if the effects of the bullets were to be disregarded? It was no time to explain. Bob, indeed, felt that it might be a difficult task to reconcile such opposites in a Chunchuse mind. He merely asked Ah-Sam to say that it was his wish, and that he had a good reason for it. A colloquy ensued between Ah-Sam and Sing-Cheng. Then the former turned to Bob and said: