Oshima scrutinised the fellow intently. Suddenly and without warning the officer sprang to his feet, knocked off the helmet and tweaked the supposed coolie's pigtail. Behold, it came off in his hand! The man stood erect. He dropped his burden. His countenance was pale but firm. He looked his captor in the eye. "You are a Russian soldier?" asked Oshima. "I am an officer in the Third Siberian Reserves," answered the prisoner calmly, in his own language. "My name is Sergius Jalofsky. Volunteers were called for to obtain information as to your forces and defences. I was one of six to volunteer. The other five have, I trust, escaped. I was to return to Liaoyang to-night." "Search him," said the Japanese captain sternly. From an inner pocket was produced a paper containing measurements, figures, and plans relating to the encampment. The evidence was convincing, even if the spy, seeing that escape or concealment was impossible, had not made his full confession. "Hold the prisoner under guard," ordered Oshima. "We will hold a court-martial and settle this matter at once." The capture of the Russian was reported at once to the colonel of the regiment, and a council of officers was convened. Five minutes' deliberation was sufficient. "You will die at sunset," said Oshima to the spy. "You are a brave man. You shall be shot." At a gesture of the captain the guard led away the prisoner, whose countenance had not changed nor features relaxed in the slightest degree when the sentence was pronounced. The sun was already nearing the mountain-tops in the west, and the cool damp shadows of evening rapidly advanced. A corporal's guard led the captive to a retired spot at a short distance from the camp. The men formed in line, with loaded muskets ready. "Sir," said the corporal, "have you any request to make, or message to leave? You are one of the bravest men I ever met. I give you my word your message shall be delivered." For the first time the Russian's eyes moistened. "I thank you, comrade," said he. "I have but done my duty. It was at the Czar's command. I have no word--yet--I will ask you to send word to my wife in Irkutsk that I died like a man and a soldier." He took his ikon from his breast, kissed it, and bent his head over it a moment. Then, having given his wife's address to the corporal, who wrote it down carefully, he folded his arms and stood erect. The corporal gently placed the folded arms down at the man's side. "It is well not to cover one's heart," he said. "Death will be very quick." The Russian bowed his head gravely. "I am ready," he said. "Ready, men! Aim! Fire!" As the smoke drifted away, the Russian looked upward an instant, with a smile on his bronzed face; then, murmuring "At--the--Czar's--command!" he fell, dead. Day by day, through the fierce summer heats of June and July, the Japanese strengthened their hold upon lower Manchuria, and tightened the cordon about Port Arthur.