The man came forward eagerly, and Bob saw that it was Taru, his friend’s servant. The little Japanese flung himself down at his master’s feet, and muttered a few words brokenly. Kobo smiled. Beckoning to Ah-Sam, Bob went out of the room, leaving the two lifelong friends, master and man, together. Outside he learnt what had happened. The rider whom he had seen leave the fortress on the memorable night when he had reconnoitred the position had returned, bringing with him the disguised Japanese servant, who had been making his way by devious routes to the haunt of his old enemy. Taru had explained to Ah-Sam that while in Yongampo he had heard that his master had been captured by Chang-Wo, and had instantly set out to track him; if possible to rescue him; if not, to die with him. He had come safely to within two miles of the fortress, and then fallen into the hands of a small party led by the Manchu courier. For half an hour Bob remained in conversation with the chief, discussing through Ah-Sam the measures that were to be taken to consolidate his new authority, and to do service to his new allies, the Japanese. Then Taru came hurriedly from the tower, and asked Bob to return with him. They found Kobo now raised to a sitting posture. His eyes were closed, but he opened them as Bob entered. He was pale with the pallor of death. "I am going—to my fathers," he whispered. Bob sat down by his side, and looked at him with dim eyes. He breathed painfully; Taru, on the other side, gave him at intervals a spoonful of water. "I rejoice to have—two faithful friends," said Kobo. "Mr. Fawcett, Taru will—return to Nikko; you will remember—Takeo, my son in England. I shall rest." He closed his eyes and remained silent. Taru took one hand and held it fast, Bob held the other. He waited, sad at heart, grieved that Japan was to lose one who had served her so well. He thought of the long hours of agony this hero must have suffered; the tortures of hunger and thirst, the fierce temptation that must have assailed him. Kobo had been reticent of details, but Bob understood that he might have purchased his life by disclosing the methods of the Japanese secret service. How small a thing, thought Bob, to meet death bravely in the heat of battle! in a moment a man passes from full life to quietude. But to endure such horrors as Kobo had faced without flinching needed another kind of courage, a higher mind, a greater soul. Bob thrilled with sympathy and admiration, and all the time felt an aching disappointment that he had not been able to avert this tragic martyrdom. Kobo’s eyes slowly opened. In tones almost inaudible he said a few words in Japanese to his servant. Taru bent to the floor, and placed his master’s hand upon his head. Kobo looked at Bob, and attempted feebly to press his hand. "It is good-bye," he said. "I am going into the dark—which is rest. Good-bye."