"He say velly well, massa, but no can tinkey so-fashion. He say massa plenty good fightee man. Can makee place velly stlong, shoot allo lightee. He tinkey one piecee Yinkelis topside man. He no savvy what-for massa helpee spoilum Roshians. Ch’hoy! He do what massa say this-time." "Very well," said Bob. It was necessary to send a message to the Cossack commander. He could not entrust a verbal message to a Chunchuse; he could not dispense at present with Ah-Sam. He must write his proposal, and he had neither paper nor pencil. "No doubt Mrs. Pottle will have both," he said to himself. Leaving instructions with the Chunchuses to keep a strict look-out, he hurried up the gully. The ladies must have been alarmed by the firing, and he could fulfil his errand and reassure them at the same time. He spoke to them before he reached the inner barricade, and, when he arrived, found them standing within the line of boulders, ready to meet him. Even Mrs. Pottle was subdued; the terrors of the past half-hour had shaken her. He noticed that she grasped her umbrella. "Oh, Mr. Fawcett!" she exclaimed; "what has happened?" "We have beaten off the Russians—once," Bob replied quietly. "You are not hurt?" said Ethel, leaning towards him, her face very pale. "No; only one of our party is injured—very slightly. Don’t be alarmed. I don’t think we shall be troubled any more to-night. I came to borrow some writing materials. Some of the enemy are badly wounded, and I want to send a message to their officer asking him to carry them away." "Oh, how thoughtful of you! Auntie, a leaf from your block-book. Here is a pencil." Mrs. Pottle tore a leaf from the book in which she had noted down her impressions of travel in the East, and gave it to Bob. "Come back soon, Mr. Fawcett," she said. "I am very nervous. That horrid shooting keeps throbbing in my head." Promising to return if possible, Bob hastened down to the breastwork, and on a boulder, by the light of matches struck for him by Ah-Sam, he wrote in French to the Russian officer. Explaining that he was unable to tend the wounded, he suggested that six men at a time should be sent unarmed to carry them off; he would guarantee their safety. Meanwhile he held one of the wounded men as a hostage. He despatched the note by a scout, who, venturing about half-way to the Russian position, called aloud for someone to come out and meet him. After some delay a Cossack cautiously approached and received the note. Half an hour elapsed, during which his communication, Bob surmised, had been discussed in the Russian camp; then a Manchu came forward and told the messenger in his own tongue that the terms were accepted. If treachery were practised, the Russians would hang every man caught in the gully. Bob smiled when Ah-Sam translated the message. He knew that, treachery or no treachery, hanging or worse would be the fate of any prisoner; there was no mercy for the Chunchuses.