"Yes, father. You know I had fencing lessons." "Bah!" muttered his elder impatiently. "Poking about a square skewer with a leather-covered button at the end! I mean a service sword--cut and thrust. There! you must try. Catch hold and come along. Loaded, mind." The last words were uttered as the boy felt the butt of a revolver thrust into one hand, the handle of a sword into the other. "Tread softly, boy," whispered his father. "This way." Stanley Lynn felt more confused than ever, for he had only returned from England two days before, after six years' absence and work at a big school; and the home he had now come to in Hai-Hai was a very much larger and more important place than that he had quitted at Canton years before. Everything had seemed strange, even by day, in the big, roomy, lightly built place connected with the great warehouse and wharf, while the lower part of the former building was used as offices and sampling-rooms. He had not half mastered the intricacies of the place by the previous evening, while now in the darkness--woke up from a deep sleep--everything seemed puzzling in the extreme. "Got him?" said a familiar voice out of the darkness. "Yes." "That's right. Don't be alarmed, Stan. The rascals are breaking into the office, but I think if we keep up a little revolver-shooting they'll soon go back to their boats." "Eh?" cried Stanley's father. "Then they came in boats?" "I've not seen them; but of course they came in boats. Hist!" There was no need for the warning, for all held their breath and listened to a low, scratching, tearing noise suggestive of some tool being used to break open a door. "They're at the big side-entry," said Stanley's father. "No; it's the little office door, I'm sure," said the gentleman whom Stanley's father addressed as Jeff. "Now then, what shall we do? Go down and fire through the door, or give them a dose out of one of these windows?" "It all comes of building a place so far from help," said Stanley's father, ignoring his brother's question. "Don't grumble, man," was the reply. "Why, in another year we shall be quite shut in." "Will that save us now?" said Stanley's father bitterly. "No, Noll, old fellow," said his brother cheerfully. "We shall have to save ourselves this time--independently.--Like fighting, Stan?" he continued, turning to the boy. "No, uncle; hate it," said the lad laconically. "Ha! I dare say this is not the only time you will be called upon to do things you don't like.--Now, now, what is it to be--downstairs, and a few shots through the panels?" "I suppose so--Take care, Stan; they are savage beasts to deal with." "Yes, the brutes!" said Uncle Jeff; "but he need not expose himself. We'll do the work if he hands us the tools." "That I shan't!" muttered the boy, gripping sword and pistol tightly. "Father doesn't wish me to do that." "Come along," said Uncle Jeff. "Shall I lead, Noll?"