It was too early for there to be much movement in the streets; yet his expert ragamuffin eyes picked up signs which comforted him. He saw wheelbarrows full of country produce moving slowly under cover of the city wall, and there were vendors laden with empty baskets going to the markets to replenish their stocks.

He was on perfectly familiar ground. Cautiously he approached a roadway leading to one of the northern gates. It was his intention to board, if possible, one of the passenger-carts plying between the northern and southern limits of the city, and by mixing himself among city folks to mask his identity. He had already thrown away his staff the night before. Now he rolled up the blue bundle which had contained his food and dropped it. Then he took the few small silver coins he had and hid them in a crevice in the city wall, which he marked carefully so that he could one day recover his property—if he survived.

He had one small string of holed copper coins left—just enough for a purchase or two and for his fare on the passenger-cart. Now having done everything which his fertile brain could suggest he hastened on, swinging his arms carelessly.

The fact that his tongue moistened his lips continually was the only sign of excitement he disclosed. His eyes, which were blood-shot from over-exposure in the sun, betrayed nothing at all. They were alert but not over-anxious. They looked out of his strong ugly face firmly and full of resolution, as if the world were an easy place to conquer.

Half-a-mile farther on he met a tattered fellow with a small basket under his arm who was selling miserable-looking plums. He bought some more for the sake of the companionship and for the conversation which he might have than for anything else. But the man knew very little save that it was dangerous everywhere in the city, and that poverty was the only sure buckler. There had been very heavy firing the day before: the foreign devils were still alive and shooting back he asserted. He also declared that there was a church full of them not more than a mile or so away who had had the audacity to blow up a whole camp of soldiers it, was said.

"It is more and more dangerous," grumbled the man. "As for your finding a seat in any passenger-cart, that is not to be thought of. None with money dare to move. How should carts ply for the moneyless!"

"Then I must walk," said the boy, "I go to find my relatives near the Hata gate."

He moved on—very deliberately.

A few shops of the poorer variety had now taken down their shutters. He noticed that the coffin-shops were open. But there were few people about, and even the main streets had a solemn and deserted appearance. Fortunately there were no soldiers—the plum-seller had said that they were being all drawn out of the city to meet some coming attack.

At length he passed under the shadow of the great Drum Tower which is right in the middle of the city and stands at the four cross roads. Here were soldiers. There were many of them aloft in this ancient work, standing in a line and gazing towards the south.

He hastened on, not daring to linger or to inquire what it might be.

Presently the distant monotonous detonation of rifles fell on his ear. Firing was evidently going on as usual: the foreign quarter was being besieged in the same way. Perhaps the soldiers had wind of some development and were watching for it.

It took him the best part of an hour to reach a point where in the dim distance he could see the Hata Gate. Now as he looked there was a flash, and later a long rumbling detonation which mixed with the cracking of rifles. They were firing cannon from this elevated point: that was what the soldiers on the Drum Tower were watching.

People were walking here, forced out of doors to get their daily supply of food. All wore hunted expressions, and the oldest clothes. He knew from this that the soldiers robbed those who were decently attired.

Later a hiss in the air made him start, and then a spent bullet kicked up the dust a few yards in front of him. It was getting dangerous, yes; very dangerous as he approached the battleground of the city.

Now he kept close to the line of shops as the others were doing. But there were fewer and fewer people abroad the further south he went; and presently he saw a dense encampment of blue tents.

This must be a headquarters—there were ever so many soldiers about and camp-suttlers were coming and going with loads of food.

Quickly he went down a side street and tried to work his way round. But when he came out again on the main thoroughfare there in front of him was another encampment—this time a camp built of matting.

He ground his teeth impotently—these tortoises were everywhere....

One of the soldiers came suddenly and caught him by the neck whilst he was gazing at them and forced him to carry a heavy load of kindling-wood. He undertook the task willingly as it gave him an excuse to linger. But his satisfaction was short-lived; for he had hardly set down the load when another soldier armed with a rifle struck him brutally with the butt and told him to be off.

The blow raised in him deep hatred. With the jeers echoing in his ears long after they had ceased, he made his way sullenly down the back-streets.

It was the rage in his heart which was his undoing. For once again he came out on the main thoroughfare and stood gazing in the direction of the foreign quarter which was less than half a mile away, a half-mile of loopholed houses and hidden barricades which he was powerless to traverse. This murderous warfare had given the locality a ruined look. Weeds and grass had sprung everywhere; close to him there was a patch of rank weeks almost as tall as a man.

The monotonous cracking of rifles sounded occasionally in the distance, but the cannon on the gateway had become silent. For the morning was advancing and the first energy of the day had evaporated.

He stood there, with his back against a shuttered shop, wondering how he should manage to force his way through that half-mile. He became convinced that this was the wrong road to take; there were too many houses and too many traps. He began moving off. But as he did so he fell in with some soldiers who were wandering listlessly about, seeking pickings in the looted shops.

They cried to him asking him what he was doing. He answered insolently that he, too, was seeking what he could; and after that they captured him. Tying his hands behind him, they struck at him until he wept; and then to humiliate him they tore off his coat and shoes.

One man took the shoes jeeringly and held them up, and said to the others that he would hurl them where they would be lost. But as he did so, his attention was attracted by something. He stopped talking; pushed his fingers in the lining of one shoe; and, after a short pause, pulled out the gold coin which had been so carefully hidden.

"Gold," he cried excitedly as he scrutinized it and rubbed it, "a piece of foreign-gold!"

They cross-examined the boy and beat him again after that, but he would confess nothing about foreigners. He said he had looted the piece of foreign money from a man who must have stolen it. Then they took him up to their Commander, who was the commander on the great gateway with the cannon, and said that they had caught a spy; for this must surely be a spy since he could give no clear account of himself. They detailed the manner of their capture with a wealth of detail—adding details that were not true—and the Commander told them to do as they pleased with him. So they tied him there in front of their barricade, bareheaded and barechested, up there on the city wall, where the foreigners' bullets would surely find him, they told him, when their fire opened on the gun-position as it did every night.

The foreigners found him like that that very night when they executed their unexpected sortie in the dark against the guns that had been posted at the gateway and had annoyed them for several days. By a miracle he was not bayonetted. Providence protected him to the end. He was half carried, half-led by the sortie-party down to the foreign quarter, a great excitement filling them. For there were those who could speak to him in his own language, and they speedily knew who he was since he talked vociferously and unendingly, telling all he had suffered. As in dream he saw his red-bearded master emerge out of the darkness and come towards him with loud exclamations and great strides. But to him he merely said respectfully: "Your Honour, I have returned; but the message the great army gave me is inside me because it was too dangerous to carry and I swallowed it, and by your blessing I shall now die a natural death."

THE END

Transcriber's note:
Changed speakly to speaking