“I’ll have my eyes open, lieutenant,” said the corporal “I’ve been in the mines where the Chinks worked, and I know ’em all around.” The corporal was soon in the water, and his powerful strokes speedily took him to where the Chinaman was making for the other side of the Pei-Ho. Although wounded, there was still a good deal of fight left in the yellow man; and it was not until the corporal hauled off, and hit him in the back of the neck, that he became limp and next to helpless. Then he was dragged ashore, and made a prisoner. The Chinaman was well dressed, and had on even his elaborately decorated wooden shoes. He would not speak, although it was afterward learned that he understood English very well. At Captain Banner’s tent the prisoner was submitted to a thorough search. On the inner side of one of his garments a little pocket was discovered, containing several sheets of rice paper, very thin and folded into the smallest possible space. The prisoner tried to throw these sheets away, but Gilbert saw and prevented the movement. On the sheets of paper was a message, written in Chinese, which no one in the camp could decipher. “We’ll have to take it to the colonel,” said Captain Banner. The matter was talked over; and a little later Gilbert was sent off on the mission, and with him went Dan Casey and a private named Hunter, as a guard. In the mean time the prisoner’s wounds were attended to, and then he was tied up in the guard-tent. The colonel was stopping at a deserted Chinese residence, nearly half a mile from the river. He had with him the third battalion, who were guarding a line of communication leading to the Taku road. Fortunately, the way to the residence was already known to Gilbert; otherwise the party of three must have been lost on the road, which wound in and out over the marshland, with here and there a dangerous ditch to cross, where the Boxers had torn up the sods, so that no artillery or cart train might pass. Occasionally there would come to their ears the dismal croak of a night bird, feeding upon some corpse in the vicinity. On every hand were those mounds of the dead, previously mentioned. But Gilbert was growing used to them now, and he scarcely noticed them. “Who goes there?” It was a cry from out of the darkness; and, standing along the roadway, the young lieutenant saw a picket from the third battalion, with gun levelled, ready to shoot. “Friends!” shouted Gilbert. “Advance, one friend, and give the countersign,” went on the picket, still keeping his rifle levelled; but, when he caught sight of Gilbert, he lowered the weapon. “Oh, it’s you, lieutenant.” “Yes, my man.” Gilbert gave the countersign, which was Manila. “Can you tell me if the colonel is up at the house?” “He was an hour ago.” Gilbert passed on, and his guard with him. At the entrance to the house another picket challenged him; but he soon went in, and the colonel was aroused.