After his escape, Kobo had pushed on eastward during the night, and at dawn was several miles from the scene. He continued his journey until mid-day, and then had the ill-luck to be sighted by a band of Manchus—the men whom Chang-Wo himself was bringing towards the Russian camp. Instantly the whole band of four hundred were at his heels. For three hours they chased him among the hills. Being mounted, sometimes they had the advantage, at others their horses were only an encumbrance. But Kobo was faint with hunger and fatigue. They gained on him slowly but surely. The nature of the country did not give him an opportunity of eluding them. More than once they could easily have shot him, and that they did not do so indicated that Chang-Wo had ordered that he should be taken alive, reserving for him, doubtless, a slower and more horrible death. At last he was almost run down; Chang-Wo and half a dozen men were but a short distance behind him, leading their horses up a rocky path too steep and rugged for them to ride. Kobo knew that as soon as they were able to remount he must be overtaken; capture seemed inevitable. He looked round anxiously, almost despairingly, for a means of escape. On the far side of the ravine he was skirting he saw a rocky ledge jutting out, approaching within a short distance of the path he was travelling, then receding again. The sight was as a ray of hope. To leap across the chasm involved a terrible risk; the descent between ledge and ledge was a sheer hundred feet, and if he missed his footing he must be dashed to pieces. In a moment he took his resolution. Collecting his remaining strength he jumped. His feet lighted on the projecting ledge. For an instant he swayed, and his life hung in the balance—an inch forward, an inch backward, would mean life or death. The crisis was but momentary. He stumbled forward, he was safe. Meanwhile the pursuers were hastening up the opposite path. They came to the spot whence Kobo had made his desperate leap; and though Chang-Wo stormed and cursed, not one of them would face the risk. To reach their quarry in any other way would involve a long detour, meanwhile he every moment increased his distance from them. Then Chang-Wo raised his rifle and fired. His shot struck Kobo in the foot. At this point of the story Ethel rose quietly and slipped away. In spite of the wound, Kobo had tramped on until dusk. He had had no food, he had travelled almost without rest for a whole day and night, yet he could not afford to delay. Until he reached the Japanese head-quarters he would be in constant danger; and it was a matter of the most urgent necessity that he should give to General Kuroki the information he had gained. He rested for a few hours, cold, hungry, in increasing pain. He bandaged his injured foot as well as he could, then with morning light set off again.