Being short of ammunition, those in the British legation did their best to make every shot tell; and, as the bombardment went on, the streets outside were filled with Chinese dead to the number of hundreds. Silver candlesticks were melted up, and made into bullets, and an old cannon, which had not seen service for twenty years, was repaired by several army engineers, and made to do excellent work against the enemy. Among those who believed in holding out to the last was Rev. Mr. Wells. “I am willing to live upon next to nothing,” he declared. “And I will take a soldier’s place, when called upon. We must hold them at bay until relieved.” He had with him on coming into the compound thirty-six pieces of silver; and these he promptly handed over, to be cast into bullets. This was paying back the Chinese in their own coin with a vengeance. As the siege went on, it was curious to see how those of different nationalities became attached to each other. It was natural for the Americans and the English to stick together from the start, but not so for the Germans, French, Japanese, and others. But soon, when the peril grew greater, racial differences were forgotten; and each man stood shoulder to shoulder with his neighbor, ready to do or die, as the case might require. If any were more determined than the others, they were the Germans; for they could not forget nor forgive the foul murder of their consul, Baron von Ketteler, who had been shot down while making an official visit to the Tsung-li-Yamen. As the Allies approached the capital, the bombardment of the British legation became more fierce than ever; and placards were posted throughout the Tartar City, proclaiming that all the foreigners must be exterminated within five days. A reward was offered for each foreign head taken; and it was only the timidity of the common Chinese soldiers which kept them from rushing in by the thousands to obtain these rewards. This state of affairs was guessed at by those marching so swiftly to the relief; yet nothing was definitely known, and it was feared that all those pent up in the British compound would be killed before their friends could get to them. It was raining furiously when Tung-Chow, a suburb of Pekin, was gained by the battalion to which Gilbert belonged. The road beside the canal was knee-deep in water and mud; and everybody was low in spirits, and almost ready to drop with exhaustion. “It’s the worst campaign I’ve ever seen,” said one English officer to the acting captain of Company A. “We hadn’t anything in South Africa to compare with it, or anything in Egypt, either,” he added. “We are at a disadvantage here,” answered Gilbert. “Only a few of our transports have arrived, and we lack both men and supplies.” “Never mind. What there are of the Americans are doing nobly,” answered the Englishman. “I saw you fight at Tien-Tsin, and it was grand. And, when it came to punishment, you took it like men.”