“It was evening,” continued Colonel Swank. “Night was coming on by the time I had persuaded Major Dillard to come with me. I had a good deal of difficulty to get him to come with me alone, without a guard. Not that he was afraid. This American officer was not afraid. You could tell that by his face. There was no way to frighten him; but it was irregular, and he had practically to go incognito. The Viceroy had stipulated with me that I should bring the American officer alone. He did not wish the common soldiers to know what the monastery contained. I had some difficulty to convince Major Dillard; but as I have said, he had faith in my cloth.” “Gawd,” said the gunman, and he spat violently on the deck. “Suppose he had been on to you, you damned old renegade. My word, you were in luck!... Did they send a yellow chair?” The placidity of Swank was unmoved. “No,” he said, “as it happened, the chairs were red. It was some of the chairs in which the women had been brought in. You know, a bride in China is always sent to the house of her husband in a red chair. All the red chairs in the province had been commandeered to bring in the young daughters of the high Chinese residents, to the protection of the Viceroy. They sent what they had. Yellow is the Royal color in China. The Viceroy couldn’t use it.” Bow Bell interrupted with a sort of vehemence. “Damn it, man, get on. You’re the slowest brute I ever saw to get into a story. It was night when you set out with Major Dillard in the red chairs. How far was it to the monastery?” But the deliberation of Swank’s narration was not to be hurried. His hand moved the long sharp blade of his knife slowly along the piece of soft wood, removing a shaving like a ribbon. He went on in his slow drawl. “The monastery was a few miles west of the advancing column. The American Division had just come up; behind it was a smart regiment from Berlin; and behind that, farther down, were the Russians. You see the whole Expeditionary Force in China had been put under the command of Count von Waldersee. The German Emperor had intrigued for this supreme command; had, in fact, openly solicited it from the Chancelleries of Europe. You will find it all described in the memoirs of von Eckerman. The German Emperor thought he would make a great point in the world if the supreme command of the allied forces in China should be put under a German officer. The Asiatic would be impressed with the superior importance of German Arms—‘Observe, if you please, how all Nations looking about for a leader have selected a German general!’” Swank paused as from the weariness of effort.