"That’s a national loss," he said. "We can’t spare a man like Kobo San. That monster Chang-Wo will torture him—to wrench information out of him if he can—of course he can’t—in sheer devilry at any rate. And the worst of it is nothing can be done for him—nothing." "I’m going to try," said Bob quietly. "You! You’ve had enough adventure, I should think, to last you a lifetime. You’ll be made mincemeat of yourself if Chang-Wo gets hold of you." "Nevertheless, I’m going to try. Kobo saved my life. I should be an ungrateful beast if—Well, it won’t bear discussion. I shall see General Kuroki as soon as I can, and get his leave." "You’re a good fellow—upon my word, you are. I wish you luck. If another than Kobo were concerned I’d do my best to hold you back, but for him—I’d do it myself if I could. He’s worth it. But I have to be off to Antung to-morrow, and then rejoin my ship. Shall we see you on board again?" "I don’t know. Perhaps—if I find Kobo." *CHAPTER XXII* *A Dumb Chinaman* Sing-Cheng Vows Vengeance—At Head-quarters—Tracking the "Mountain Tiger"—Deaf and Dumb—A Hill Fastness—Tracked—Strategy—Chang-Wo’s Way General Kuroki’s brilliant victory had been won at great cost. Such dash, such persistence, such fearless disregard of death had not perhaps been seen on any battle-field since the days when arms of precision were unknown, and the rival combatants fought man to man at deadly grips. The whole day after the battle was occupied in burying the dead and helping the wounded, and Bob, assisting in the sad work, saw many new signs of the invincible stoicism of his country’s allies. Many a sturdy little soldier, though maimed beyond repair, accepted his fate and bore his pain without a murmur, his deepest hurt being in the knowledge that for the rest of the campaign, perhaps for the rest of his life, he would be unable to do further service. Towards evening, as Bob with Ah-Sam passed over an outlying corner of the position, where there remained a number of prostrate bodies still uncollected, he fancied he heard a groan. He stopped and listened. In a moment he heard the sound again, faint, but distinct, less a groan of pain than the tired gasp of a man utterly spent. Over a comparatively small area lay some thirty bodies close together, and Bob saw by their dress that they were not Japanese, but Manchurian natives. Picking his way carefully through them towards the sound, he at length saw a white-sleeved arm move, and when he bent down, he found that, pinned beneath a cold body, lay a man still alive. The wounded man was soon released, and then Bob saw that it was the chief of the Chunchuses, Sing-Cheng, the man with whom he had spent his memorable fortnight of peril and adventure.