Chapter XX…

Chapter XX

In the room in which the fugitives now found themselves, there were several garments hanging.

'Let us change our clothes,' Charlie whispered; 'it will be a splendid disguise.'

Ping Wang's face beamed. He pulled off his coat and trousers and donned in their place a dirty jacket and a pair of ragged knickerbockers. Then, taking off his 'beehive,' he wound round his head the yellow scarf of the Boxers.

Charlie and Fred hastened to follow his example. Ping Wang tied their Boxer cloths around their heads, and then looked at them with interest.

'Splendid,' he declared, 'and now we must be off in case any of the people return. They have gone,' he added, after listening for a few minutes.

He opened the door. A passer-by spoke to him, and he answered cheerfully, making some remark which caused the man to laugh heartily as he continued his journey.

'Come on,' Ping Wang whispered, when the man had passed out of sight, and stepped into the street, followed by Charlie and Fred.

No one penetrated their disguise as they hurried along the streets. One man informed Ping Wang that the three foreigners had been killed. They had taken refuge in a house and the mob had thereupon set light to it. He pointed to the distant flames. Ping Wang was sorry for the men who had been mistaken for them, if they were really in the burnt house, but could not help feeling relieved at the thought that now the mob had wreaked its vengeance it would probably disperse for the night.

'When we turn the next corner we shall be facing the gates,' Ping Wang said after a short walk; and Charlie and Fred heard the news with thankfulness. They were as determined as ever to recover their friend's wealth before quitting China, but they realised that it would be folly to make another attempt to do so while the Boxers were stirring up the people. Their idea was to return to Hongkong and remain there until the anti-foreign feeling had grown less strong.

Ping Wang was the first to reach the corner. To the astonishment of his friends he stopped short, with an exclamation of surprise. Charlie and Fred were at his side in a moment and saw at once the cause of his astonishment--the town gates were closed!

The surprise which they showed on seeing that the gates were closed did not cause any comment or notice among the people standing near, for they too had been surprised and annoyed by the same thing. Chin Choo had given the order for the gates to be shut, and the soldiers dared not open them until they received from him a command to that effect.

After a time the crowd began to disperse, some of the people wandering off to find lodgings for the night, and others sitting down by the roadside in the hope that, before long, the gates would be thrown open. Among the latter were the Pages and Ping Wang. They found a dark corner, and sat there almost entirely hidden from passers-by. Ping Wang sat in front of his friends, so that if any one did peer into their corner he would see him, and conclude that his companions were Chinamen. A long silence was at last broken by the shouts of an advancing mob.

'They've discovered their mistake,' Charlie declared, 'and are continuing the search for us.'

'Don't talk,' Ping Wang said, and once more they became silent, listening eagerly to distinguish what the mob was shouting. In a few minutes their suspicions were confirmed, for the cry which burst from hundreds of throats was one that there was no need Ping Wang to translate--Charlie and Fred understood only too well what it meant.

'Kill the foreigners!' Nearer each moment came the crowd, every man uttering the same cry. Soon it came in sight. At the head of the mob was Chin Choo in his palanquin, wearing the yellow head-cloth of the Boxers.

'They're Boxers,' Ping Wang whispered, 'and evidently they have no idea that we are alive.'

This was welcome news to Charlie and Fred, and remembering that they too were members of the Boxers' Society, they watched the crowd with great interest. Every Boxer wore his yellow head-cloth, and carried a weapon of some sort. A few only had rifles, the remainder being armed with swords, knives, bows and arrows, and sticks.

When the Boxers had arrived at the town gates, Chin Choo addressed his followers from his palanquin. He declared that the foreigners had come to the Middle Kingdom for the sole purpose of taking their country, and that, therefore, it was necessary to kill them all at once. If any were permitted to escape, they would return to their own land, and come back with many more. Then he declared that the Boxers would avenge all the cruelties which he said had been enacted by the foreigners, and finished up with the statement that the Boxers could not be wounded. Bullets would glide off their skin without making a scar, and swords, spears, and knives would make no impression.

Chin Choo saw that the people had doubts about the truth of his last assertion, and beckoned two of his officers to approach him. He talked with them for a few moments, and then declared, in a loud voice. 'Now you shall see that nothing can harm the men who wear yellow head-cloths.'

As he spoke six Boxers advanced, and stood with their backs to the town gates. Then twelve of the soldiers marched forward with their rifles at the trail, and halted about twenty yards in front of them. At the word of command they loaded their rifles and raised them to their shoulders. An instant later they fired a volley at the six Boxers, but, to the astonishment of the onlookers, not one of the men was injured.

'They used blank cartridges,' Fred declared.

'It was smart of Chin Choo,' Charlie declared, and Fred and Ping Wang agreed with him, for not one Chinaman in a thousand knows that there are such things as blank cartridges.

The crowd was delighted with this miracle, and the Boxers themselves became wild with joy. They waved their weapons about, and shouted to be led against the enemy at once. Their desire was granted, the gates were thrown open, and the Boxers marched out of the town.

'Come on,' Ping Wang said, when the Boxers began to move forward. 'We will march out with them.'

They slipped into the road, and joined the tail of the Boxers boldly, brandishing the knives that they had with them in imitation of the Chinamen's actions. Ping Wang shouted as loudly as any man, and shook his fist fiercely at an imaginary enemy.

'Keep your eye on me,' he whispered to Charlie when they had marched about a mile. 'We will bolt soon.'

Charlie saw that it would not be a difficult thing to escape from the rabble army, for men straggled away right and left, just as they felt inclined. The officers walked in front, and beyond looking round occasionally to see that the mob was following, kept no further watch on them.

Before long Ping Wang halted to rearrange his head-cloth. Charlie and Fred turned, and stood looking at him as if they were waiting for him to finish and march on. Their action was very natural, and the few men who had been marching behind them passed on without a remark.

Ping Wang continued to fumble about with his head-cloth until the last of the Boxers were out of sight. Then he said, 'Now's our time,' and quitted the track. The bushes, which grew thickly along the roadside, afforded ample 'cover' if they needed it.

'We must hurry through this undergrowth without being seen, and get well ahead of the Boxers,' said Ping Wang; 'then we will rejoin the track and run forward at full speed.'

They proceeded cautiously, but travelled quick enough to gain on the Boxers.

'We are about level with the middle of the mob,' Ping Wang declared some minutes later. 'We must get a good half-mile ahead of them before we rejoin the track.'

As Ping Wang finished speaking, Fred, who had looked behind him, exclaimed, anxiously, 'There's some one following us.'

Charlie and Ping Wang stopped short, and, looking in the direction indicated by Fred, saw a dark figure struggling through the bushes after them.

'Let us wait and tackle him,' Charlie suggested, but Ping Wang objected firmly to that proposal.

'There may be other fellows following him,' he added, 'and a shout from any one of them would bring the mob rushing over here in a moment. The best thing that we can do is to hurry on as quickly as possible.'

'Come along, then,' Charlie said, and started running. They ran a little more than a mile. They soon left the Boxers behind, but the man whom they were trying to avoid still pursued them.

'He has gained on us,' Charlie declared, and Fred and Ping Wang could not deny it.

'We must run faster,' Ping Wang said, but, as he was panting for breath, Charlie and Fred felt sure that they would not get rid of their pursuer by running.

'He is alone,' Fred declared; 'let's stop and see what he wants. We may be certain that he hasn't any firearms with him, for if he had he would have had a shot at us long before this.'

Ping Wang, however, did not agree; he preferred to keep on running. But he sadly over-rated his running powers, and before they had gone another hundred yards he had to stop and gasp for breath. The pursuer was now approaching them rapidly, so Charlie and Fred grasped their knives and waited for him. He increased his speed, and, as he drew nearer, they saw that he was wearing the yellow head-cloth of the Boxers.

(Continued on page 378.)

AFLOAT ON THE DOGGER BANK.

A Story of Adventure on the North Sea and in China.

(Continued from page 375.)

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Chapter XXI

When the man was within twenty yards of the fugitives, he caught sight of their knives, and, stopping suddenly, exclaimed in pidgin English:

'What for knives? my plenty good Clistian man. My no knives, no shootee gun, no nothin'.'

As he spoke, he held up his hands to show that he was unarmed, and, with perfect confidence in their honour, advanced in that fashion.

'Who are you?' Charlie asked, as the thin, wizened, but lively little Chinaman stood before them.

'Number One cook. Welly good cook for missionally man.'

'What for wantee catchee us?' Fred inquired.

'Englisheeman takee to missionally.'

'How you savvy we Englisheeman?'

'Englisheeman pigtail plenty good,' Number One cook explained, but added the unflattering information that 'Englisheeman no can hide welly much funny nose, welly much funny eyes, welly much funny mouth.'

Ping Wang, having recovered his breath, took up the conversation, Charlie and Fred meanwhile keeping a sharp look-out for Boxers. When they had walked quickly about a quarter of a mile, Ping Wang brought his conversation in Chinese to a close.

'This man says,' he informed the Pages, 'that he is employed at the mission station for which we are bound. He had been sent up-country by the missionaries on business, and was returning through Kwang-ngan when he saw the anti-foreign placard. He did the same thing as we did--hurried to the gates--but did not reach them until after they were closed. Being hungry, he went back to get some food, and on his way to the shop he met a sleepy Boxer, who had apparently just come from an opium den. Number One said to himself, "I will have that head-cloth," and he took it, giving the Boxer his own hat instead. Then, after a while, he made his way to the gates, arriving there just as the Boxers were marching out. He declares that he knew that both of you were Englishmen the moment he saw you. He kept his eyes on us, and decided to join us.'

'Does he think that the rising will spread?' Charlie asked.

'He is sure it will, and he means to urge Barton and his friends to leave the country as quickly as possible.'

Being now about half a mile ahead of the Boxers, the two Englishmen and the two Chinamen made their way back to the track, and, after walking quickly for another hour, arrived at the gates of Su-ching, which they had hoped not to re-enter until they brought with them Ping Wang's treasure. The gates were open, but the soldiers who guarded the entrance to the town had thrown off their usual air of apathy, and were questioning eagerly every man who came from the direction of Kwang-ngan. On seeing four Boxers approaching, they hurried forward to meet them.

'Are the Boxers coming quickly to kill the foreigners?' they asked, excitedly.

'They are,' Ping Wang answered. 'Listen and you will hear them shouting.'

The noise of the advancing mob reached them as a faint, buzzing sound, but loud enough to convince the soldiers that the Boxers were really coming. They were anxious to ask Ping Wang and his companions more questions, but Ping Wang cut short their questions.

'We bear a message,' he declared, 'and we must deliver it at once. We have run quickly, for we did not carry rifles. But now that we have finished running, give us rifles, in case we meet any foreigners.'

To the soldiers this request appeared to be a perfectly reasonable one, and, knowing that the mandarin and other town officials sympathised with the Boxers, they took from the armoury, which was close by, four Snider rifles, and handed them out to Ping Wang, with ammunition.

Feeling safe once more, Ping Wang and his friends hurried off in the direction of the mandarin's house; but, as soon as they got out of sight of the soldiers, Number One exclaimed, 'This way welly much more quick,' and turned up a narrow side-street. The Pages and Ping Wang followed him, and in about three minutes they arrived at the wall of the mission station, which they saw was already placarded with anti-foreign manifestoes. They rang the bell, but some minutes passed, and the gate was not opened. They rang again, loudly, and a minute later they heard Barton inquire, in Chinese, who they were.

'Missionalies,' Number One answered, quite convinced that Charlie and Fred were missionaries.

'Where from?' Barton asked, for one of his native servants had already turned traitor, and he was now very cautious.

'It's all right, Mr. Barton!' Charlie sang out. 'We are the Pages, Ping Wang, and your Number One cook.'

'That's splendid!' Barton declared, and, although they could not see him, they knew by his voice that their arrival was welcome. 'Wait a moment,' he continued; 'the gate is barricaded, but I will lower a ladder to you. Here you are!' he called down a minute later, and on looking up they saw him lowering from the top of the wall a long bamboo ladder. When it touched the ground they planted it firmly.

'You go first, Number One,' Charlie said, in a tone that showed he meant to be obeyed.

'Welly good,' Number One replied, and went up the ladder as nimbly as if it were his usual way of entering the mission station.

Fred followed Number One, and Charlie asked to be the last, but Ping Wang objected.

'Hurry up!' Barton sang out, and Ping Wang, seeing that Charlie was determined to be the last man up, climbed the ladder. Just as he reached the top, and as Charlie planted his foot on the lowest rung, three men, with knives in their hands, came running up, and Charlie was unaware of his danger; but Fred saw the scoundrels, and slipping a cartridge into the breach of his rifle he took aim, fired, and shot the foremost man. The other two, who had not expected any danger, turned about and fled in terror.

'Fred,' Charlie said, when he had climbed over the wall, 'you saved my life.' Then he turned to Barton. 'I see that you are prepared for the Boxers,' he said. 'We were afraid that we shouldn't get here in time to warn you of their approach.'

'Are they on their way, then?'

'They will be here in ten minutes at the latest.'

Barton sighed. 'I had been hoping,' he said, 'that the Empress-Dowager would have had the Boxers suppressed before they would be able to reach here. I am afraid, however, that she is secretly encouraging them. It is a great sorrow to my colleagues and myself to find ourselves arming against the people among whom we have lived on friendly terms for some years. However, we must protect our women and children. Since you left us, eight men, five women, and four children have joined us. Some of them have suffered terribly in their flight from the Boxers. Their own mission stations have been destroyed, and many of their fellow-missionaries were murdered. Consequently we may have to fight.'

'How many European men have you, and what weapons?' Fred asked.

'Thirteen, counting you and your brother, and we have eight rifles and five revolvers. That is not including your Sniders.'

'But what about provisions?' Charlie asked.

'I have got a good stock, and I think we can stand a month's siege. Of course it won't last quite so long now you are here.'

The other missionaries now joined them, in answer to Barton's summons. The majority were young men, but two were middle-aged, and one a grey-bearded old gentleman. Each had his rifle or revolver, and, although they did not wish to be forced to fight, they had the determined looks of men who knew that their cause was a good one, and were prepared to die in its defence. Their positions at the wall had been settled some hours before, but the arrival of the Pages, Ping Wang, and Number One made a fresh arrangement necessary.

'I will post you above the gate, with Ping Wang, and Number One, as you call him,' Barton said to Fred, adding, 'I will make Charlie my lieutenant.'

'That won't do,' Charlie declared. 'I know nothing about military matters, but Fred does. He's a Volunteer, and a jolly good shot into the bargain. Make him your lieutenant.'

'Very well. Then you go over the gate.'

Charlie took up his position on a platform built over the gateway, on the inner side of the wall. Ping Wang was on his right, and Number One on his left.

'I came to the conclusion,' Barton said, as he showed Fred the defences, 'that it would be risky to make loopholes in the wall, in case, after a time, we should be unable to place a man at each. Therefore we built those platforms.'

The platforms were built at intervals around the wall, each having room for six or seven men. The defenders would have to shoot over the top of the wall, but cover had been provided for them by sandbags fixed securely along the ridge.

'Our women workers made those sandbags,' Barton remarked. 'They used table-cloths, rugs, curtains, and even some of their own dresses. They have been a great help to us.'

'By-the-bye, do your colleagues know how to handle their rifles?' Fred inquired.

'Mr. Wilkins, that old gentleman with the grey beard, was a good shot forty years ago; but from the time he first left England, until yesterday, he hadn't touched a rifle. However, he was practising yesterday and to-day, and I have no doubt that he will do well. My other colleagues had never handled a rifle in their lives until this morning, when I gave them a little instruction. I was a member of the Oxford University Corps.'

'We ought to make a good defence then,' said Fred. 'But we must keep a sharp eye on the ammunition, and see that it isn't wasted.'

'That reminds me that my man got a fine Lee-Metford and a large box of ammunition. They were sold to him at a low price by a boatman who, I suspect, had stolen them at one of the treaty ports. As the rifle was strange to me I held it back until I had time to learn how to fill the magazine. Would you like to have it?'

'I should, very much.'

They hurried to the verandah of the house where the Lee-Metford and ammunition lay. Fred picked up the rifle and, after examining it closely, recognised it as the very one which he had used with good effect against the river pirates. He was about to tell Barton of his discovery when loud shouts from the town made known to them that the Boxers had arrived. Fred pulled off his skull-cap, filled it with cartridges, and followed Barton down the steps and up on to the platform, where Charlie, Ping Wang, and Number One were stationed.

(Continued on page 386.)

TOYS FROM THE STREETS.

Who does not know the Street Toy-man? 'All made to work! Here you are, sir, a real motor-car for a penny! The wonderful jumping frog!'

Cheapside and Ludgate Hill, and many less busy parts of London, ring with such cries for a month before Christmas. All the year round the hawkers are standing patiently on the curbstone with their wonderful penn'orths; but it is at Christmas-time that they do most business. Some children are fortunate enough to be taken by their parents to see the streets at Christmas-time, and sometimes they are allowed to buy some of the pretty things for themselves. But there are many others not so fortunate, who can only look on wistfully, and others again who are not rich enough or, perhaps, too ill even to go and look at the sights. Poor men and women, who cannot really afford even a penny, find in the hawkers' wares the cheapest market, and many a bare, cold home is brightened at Christmas by one or two of the little toys that cost so little, but bring so much happiness.

These toys have a wonderful history of their own. Do you know that when you have one of them in your hand, you may be holding what has come thousands of miles over sea and land from the hands of other children in distant countries? Whole families make a living by manufacturing these toys. The material--wood, paper, tinsel, wire, or what not--is given out at the factory, and the worker takes it home. There every one is busy; one cutting out pieces of paper of a given shape, one whittling pieces of wood to fit together, one gumming up the various parts, till the whole toy is finished and added to a growing pile. Nearly every civilised country has such workers--Austria, Germany, France, America, Japan, and England; and the toys in the end travel mile after mile in great ships and trains, to be sold in the streets for such a little sum!

Now think how some of these are made. Most of those which require gumming or fitting together are the work of man's hands alone. The birdcage and dog musical-box in the illustration are of this kind. In the inside of the box under the dog is a little cogged wheel, which, when the handle is turned, rubs against pieces of metal and produces the musical sounds. The bird's song, or rather, croak, is caused by air rushing through a sort of parchment tissue when the floor of the cage is compressed. The train, carman, cart, and trailer are made almost entirely by means of moulds, though some parts have to be fitted together by hand. First of all, a model is made in wax or clay, or some other substance, then a cast is taken of it in plaster of Paris, then a double mould (in two pieces) is made from the plaster cast, and into these moulds liquid metal--an alloy mainly composed of lead--is run, and left to cool. All these five toys have wheels that move. They are electro-gilt--that is, the gilding is fixed on them by means of a bath through which an electric current passes.

The other toys in the illustration are made mainly by hand, though parts have to be cast in moulds or cut by machinery. The monkey bicyclist is hand-made; his body is composed of wool and wire. The weight hanging down under the string keeps him perfectly balanced, and as the string is raised or lowered he runs up and down more easily than a good many human bicyclists.

(Continued on page 389.)

THE CHINESE LAUNDRYMAN.

The differences in general appearance of the men of various races are most striking. No one could mistake a Chinaman for a North American Indian, or a Negro for a Malay or a Maori. Not only are these men of various races different in outward appearance, but they have also minds of different characters, and seem naturally fitted for different kinds of work.

The Chinaman has his own special fields of labour. He is a great trader with the countries near home, and sends out many junks to the East Indies, the Malay Islands, and the South Sea Islands, to collect edible birds' nests, trepang, ornamental woods, pearls, pearl-shells, tortoise-shell, and the skins of birds of paradise. At Singapore, there are hundreds of Chinese shopkeepers, who sell all kinds of miscellaneous articles, such as penknives, cotton thread, writing-paper, gunpowder, and corkscrews, often at a price which would be considered cheap even in England.

But it is when the Chinaman settles in some American or Australian town that his special abilities are best seen. He is surrounded and outnumbered by Englishmen and Americans, and is entirely under their government; and yet there are some kinds of work which he can do so well and so cheaply that no European can compete with him. He is an excellent gardener in a small way, and if he can obtain only a very little plot of ground, he will cultivate it so constantly and so carefully that he will be able to maintain himself in comfort with the money which he obtains from the sale of his vegetables and fruits. Many gardens belonging to Chinamen are to be seen on the outskirts of the cities of Australia and New Zealand, and early in the morning the Chinamen hawk their products through the streets.

The Chinaman is equally good as a laundryman, and in some cities the Chinese colonists do the whole of the laundry-work. In San Francisco, where there are thousands of Chinese, all the washing is performed by them. They work in the open air, just as the English and Scotch women used to do in their public washing-grounds, standing in the water rubbing and wringing their clothes. They have a curious practice in ironing, of spraying the linen with water through their mouths. They do the work very thoroughly, and at the same time cheaply. A Chinaman will live very comfortably on forty pounds a year, and, as he is an almost incessant worker, he can make sufficient money for his needs by work which is very poorly paid from an Englishman's point of view.

A BUSY WORLD.

What a busy world is this! Everything I view Has some task it must not miss-- Something it must do; There is nothing idle stands, All things work with head or hands.

All day long the busy Sun Runneth through the skies, And its work is never done Till the stars arise: Then it goes to other lands, Nor one moment idle stands.

In this world where all things work, I must busy be; There are tasks I must not shirk, Duties set for me; And since nothing idle stands, I must work with head or hands.

A HUNDRED YEARS AGO.

True Tales of the Year 1805.

VII.--REPTON, THE CONVICT.

It was the last day of the Winter Assize, in the year 1805, and a long row of prisoners stood in the dock of the court to receive the sentence of death.

Sixteen men to be hanged! It seems quite incredible now, but a hundred years ago the death sentence was given indiscriminately for offences of all sorts, some so trivial as hardly to deserve the name. For instance, the man of sixty, who stood first in the dock, had snatched a ham from a shop-door, to take to some starving children at home; and the country lad of some eighteen years or less, at the other end of the row, had set fire to a rick--it was an accident, it is true, but a quantity of hay had been burnt; the jury found him 'guilty,' and he was to be hanged with the rest.

Poor lad! The judge's words fell on his ear like strokes of a heavy hammer. Surely they could not be meant for him! It was but a few days ago that he had been a happy, careless lad, shouting and laughing over a bonfire in which he and some friends were to roast potatoes. A high wind got up suddenly, and some sparks from their fire were carried to a hay-rick at some little distance, and at once there was a blaze!

The other lads slunk away, terrified at the mishap, but this lad, Repton by name, ran up, and tried to stamp out the flames, and so was taken 'red-handed,' as the angry farmer expressed it, and was there and then lodged in the county jail.

And now he was to die! He sat in a corner of the dark underground room, dazed and miserable, whilst the men round him, sentenced like himself, were talking and laughing, and trying by these means to put away the thought of their fate. But Repton was stupefied with anguish, till at last merciful sleep overcame him.

He was roused next morning by the jailor, who said, roughly enough, 'You've escaped the gallows this time, lad. A reprieve has come for you.'

'Am I free? Can I go home?' asked the lad eagerly, not understanding the man's words.

The jailor burst out laughing. 'Free! What are you thinking of? Folks can't burn ricks, and be free. You are to be transported to Botany Bay for ten years, and then you will be free.'

* * * * *

The six months which Repton had to pass on the hulks at Sheerness among scenes of wickedness and brutality seemed afterwards like a bad dream, and the lad prayed--oh, so earnestly!--to be kept from the evil which surrounded him. Then came the day when, chained two and two, he and his companions were marched through the streets and shipped on board the Neptune, as unseaworthy a craft as ever sailed the ocean, but thought good enough for convicts.

However, the Neptune did not sink; but she took nearly a year to reach her destination, and the convicts, stowed together in the hold, suffered torments from heat and thirst in the tropics. Then small-pox broke out amongst them, and many died; the rest were more like skeletons than living men, when the Neptune at last cast anchor in Botany Bay. Here the men had to work on Government buildings, and at night were locked up in barracks, hardly more roomy or airy than the hold of the old Neptune.

Most of the convicts did as little work, and gave as much trouble as they dared, and nothing but fear of the overseer kept them from open mutiny. At last, finding the overseer alone one day, and for once unarmed, two or three of the worst convicts set upon him, and would have murdered him, if Repton had not stood by him and helped him till assistance came to overpower the mutineers.

The overseer did not forget this act of Repton's, and next time one of the merchants came to the barracks to choose a servant from among the convicts (as was then the custom), he recommended the lad for the coveted post.

Now, indeed, Repton felt almost happy for the first time since his conviction. He was still a convict, it is true, and might be flogged at his master's will, or be sent back to the convict barracks, if he misconducted himself in any way. But, for the moment, he was actually free; he lived in a little shed of his own next the stable, and groomed the horses as a free man; and the relief of no longer being herded with wicked men, day and night, was too great for words.

Repton loved horses, too, and took such care of his master's beautiful mare, and the little girl's pony, that there never was any fault to be found with him. As the months went on, he was trusted more and more by both master and mistress, and treated more like a humble friend than a despised convict.

Those were lawless days in the Colony; convicts were constantly escaping into the bush, where they lived as they could--often venturing out to rob houses, or attacking and plundering, sometimes even murdering, solitary travellers.

Mr. Edmonds, Repton's master, had a house in a somewhat lonely position, half-a-mile or more from any neighbour. He was, however, a man prepared for all emergencies, and, as he was known to be well provided with fire-arms, and not afraid to use them, his house had hitherto been left unmolested.

One night, however--a dark, stormy night--Repton was roused by the sound of steel grating against something. Listening more intently, he heard whispers, and finally came to the conclusion that men were trying to force open the house-door. Then it suddenly flashed into Repton's mind that Mr. Edmonds had been summoned hastily away that very evening by a message from a sick friend on the other side of the town, and there was no one in the house but a young nursemaid to protect the mistress and her little girl.

Hastily flinging on his clothes, he crept up in the darkness, and, getting behind the two men, who had by this time almost forced the door, he felled one of them to the ground with a well-aimed blow. The other, however, turned savagely on Repton, and the two were soon locked in fight. The burglar was, however, the heavier man of the two, and things were going badly for Repton, whose strength was all but exhausted, when the welcome sound of horses' hoofs was heard, and Mr. Edmonds came galloping up.

'Help, help, master!' cried Repton. 'Here, I cannot hold him much longer!'

Mr. Edmonds sprang from his horse, and came to him, and, with the lad's help, both burglars were bound hand and foot, and left in an outhouse till the police could fetch them away.

Then Repton's turn came, and his master shook him by the hand, convict though he was, and thanked him for his bravery, and he was taken indoors, where Mrs. Repton with her own hands brought some soothing lotion to bathe his wounds.

Nor was this the end. Mr. Edmonds, who had great influence with the Governor, obtained in time a free pardon for Repton, and set him up in business, and now some of the most respected families in Australia are the descendants of Repton the Convict.

AFLOAT ON THE DOGGER BANK.

A Story of Adventure on the North Sea and in China.

(Continued from page 379.)

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Chapter XXII

'Here they come,' Ping Wang said, and as he spoke a shouting, wild-looking mob of Chinamen came running down the road to the mission station. Halting about twenty yards away from the mission wall, they waited until their whole force had arrived, contenting themselves in the meanwhile with yelling 'Down with the foreigners!' brandishing their weapons and waving their flags. Soon there were quite three hundred Boxers in the road facing the front of the mission, it being their hope to strike terror by a display of their numbers.

At a signal from the leader of the Boxers, about fifty rifles were fired point-blank at the wall. Fred raised his rifle, pressed the trigger, and the Boxer leader threw up his arms and fell on his face. Fred's shot was taken by the other defenders as the signal to fire, and they did so promptly.

The surprise and terror of the Boxers on discovering that they were not invulnerable formed a sight which none of the defenders will ever forget. Every man was seized with a desire to escape from the foreigners' bullets, and they turned and ran in confusion.

'Cease fire,' Barton commanded, when he saw the enemy routed, and Fred, Charlie, and Ping Wang obeyed instantly.

'I don't fancy that the Boxers will trouble us again to-night,' Barton said, a few minutes later, 'for their leaders will have some difficulty after this in convincing them that they cannot be wounded. There is no need for all of us to remain on duty. I dare say you fellows are hungry; come inside.'

'We are not presentable,' Fred said. 'Just look at the rags we are wearing.'

'They are pretty bad,' Barton admitted. 'Come into my room, and I'll see if I can't find you some better ones.'

Barton went into the rooms of two other missionaries, and returned with an armful of clothes. 'Now I will go and see about a meal for you,' he said. 'I will be back in a few minutes.'

When he returned, he could not help smiling at what he saw. Ping Wang, wishing to dress like his friends, had put on knickerbockers and a college blazer, down the back of which hung his black, silky pigtail. Charlie was wearing flannel trousers and a khaki tunic, while Fred was attired in a black and somewhat moth-eaten suit, which was too short for him both in arms and legs.

'You look better than you did,' Barton declared. 'But, now, come and have your supper.'

He led the way along the verandah, and into a large airy room at the back of the building, where the supper was laid. Four ladies were hard at work making sandbags, a task at which they had been busy since early in the morning. Barton introduced the Pages and Ping Wang to them. In spite of the anxiety which the fact of the mission being besieged caused them, they were cheerful in their conversation, and insisted upon the new-comers making a hearty meal. After supper Charlie, Fred, and Ping Wang returned to their posts, relieving the missionaries, and enabling them to have some rest.

The night was very cold, and the sentinels had great difficulty in keeping themselves warm.

'I hope,' Fred said to Charlie, 'that the Boxers won't attack us while my hands are numbed, for I'm sure I could not shoot just now.'

'It's my opinion,' Charlie answered, 'that the reception we gave them has taken the pluck out of them, and that we shan't be troubled with them for some days. Then, perhaps, they will screw up their courage to make another assault.'

'Their silence strikes me as very suspicious,' Ping Wang declared. 'It's my belief that they are planning a surprise.'

Ping Wang's opinion was at once communicated to Barton, with the result that every man on duty was instructed to keep an extra sharp look-out. The order was, as a matter of fact, not needed; for the sentries were as alert as they possibly could be. Hour after hour they peered into the darkness, but without seeing any signs of the enemy.

At daybreak Number One and his assistant cooks brought breakfast to the shivering defenders. They enjoyed their breakfast thoroughly, and thanked Number One for its excellence. He smiled, and sent his assistants away with the crockery. He himself remained, without asking permission, upon the platform. A spare rifle was there, and he took possession of it. Barton was about to send him back to the kitchen when Charlie suddenly exclaimed, 'What's that, just over there?'

'It looks to me uncommonly like an overturned wheelbarrow,' Barton replied. 'We shall know when it gets a little lighter.'

'It is a wheelbarrow,' Fred declared, a few minutes later.

'Well,' Charlie exclaimed, 'this is the first time that I have heard of a man coming into battle on a wheelbarrow!'

'I can see what it was used for!' Fred exclaimed. 'It carried the ammunition. I can see the cartridges lying on the ground. We must have those. I will go down and get them. Where's the ladder?'

'We certainly need more ammunition,' Barton admitted, 'but it would be a dangerous job for you to get those cartridges.'

'I object too,' said Charlie. 'It would be madness to run the risk of losing our best shot. I will go and get the cartridges, and, with Mr. Wilkins and you two to keep off any one who approaches me, I shall be pretty safe.'

'Charlie's plan is the better of the two,' Ping Wang joined in; 'but he mustn't attempt to carry it out without help. If he has one or two men with him the Boxers will be less likely to attack him, and certainly the job will be done more quickly. I'll be one of the men to accompany him, and I should like Number One to be the other.'

Ping Wang asked Number One in Chinese if he would care to take part in fetching the ammunition. His face beamed at the idea.

'Get the ladder, then,' Barton said; and Charlie added, 'Bring a sack.'

Number One fetched both at once. The sack was thrown down into the road, and the ladder lowered quickly.

Charlie was the first to descend, but his companions followed so quickly that all three were on the ladder at the same time. Snatching up the sack the moment that he touched the ground, Charlie ran to the overturned wheelbarrow. Ping Wang and Number One were only a yard or two behind him, and soon all three were scooping up handfuls of cartridges and dropping them in the sack.

'Guns, mistah,' Number One exclaimed when the sack was about half full, and pointed to three rifles lying near.

'Pick them up,' Charlie said, 'and run back with them at once.'

'Can do,' Number One replied, and, collecting the rifles, ran back to the ladder, climbed up it, and handed his prize over the wall to Barton. Then, running to the barrow, he resumed his work of picking up cartridges.

'We needn't trouble about the others,' Charlie said when they had collected all but about thirty, which were scattered over a wide space, and, slinging the sack over his shoulder, he started for the ladder. At the same moment four shots were fired at him from the houses facing the mission, but without touching him or his companions. Mr. Wilkins, Barton, and Fred returned the fire instantly, but their opponents were hidden from view, and their shots were wasted--at least, they imagined that they were wasted; but it was a very fortunate thing for them that they had not touched a Boxer, for the fanatics no sooner found that they were unhurt by the foreigners' fire than they jumped to the conclusion again that they could not be wounded. One of them, springing up from his place of hiding on the roof, tried a standing shot at Charlie, but, before he had time to fire, Mr. Wilkins's rifle rang out, and the Boxer fell forward into the street. His death was not witnessed by the other Boxers, for they were in a different house. One of them exposed his head for a moment, and Barton and Fred fired simultaneously, and one, or perhaps both, hit it. But the other Boxers kept under cover, and one of them shot Number One through the left arm.

Ping Wang and Number One climbed the ladder in safety, but Charlie, whose progress was hampered by the sack, had not reached the foot of it.

'Drop the sack and run!' Fred shouted, but his brother either did not hear or would not take his advice.

'Run, Charlie! never mind about the sack,' Fred again shouted, but Charlie was now close to the foot of the ladder, and had no intention of losing his prize. A bullet tore up the ground a yard in front of him, and Fred, in desperation, fired the contents of his magazine at the spot where the man was hidden. The rapidity of the firing apparently frightened him, and Barton having wounded the other man, Charlie climbed the ladder without further harm; but just as he reached the safe side of the wall, a crowd of fully one hundred Boxers rushed round the corner, and began a determined attack on the mission.

(Continued on page 398.)

INSECT WAYS AND MEANS.

XII.--HOW INSECTS GROW.

Those of you who have kept silkworms or other caterpillars must have noticed that these insects, from time to time, become listless, cease feeding, and finally 'moult,' or change their skin; but it may not have occurred to you to inquire why this change is necessary.

The reason is certainly a curious one, since it is the caterpillar way of growing. With most living creatures, growth is continuous until the full-grown size is reached; that is to say, it takes place by imperceptible degrees. Boys and girls add to the number of their inches so gradually that neither they themselves nor their friends can perceive the change, except by reference to old measurements. You cannot see people or animals growing, because the process is so steady and gradual. But with the insects, and their relatives, the crabs and lobsters, this is otherwise. Owing to its peculiar nature, the hard outer skin, which is of horny, or, as it is called, 'chitinous' nature, cannot grow gradually, and so the skin has to be cast off periodically. This casting-off process is known as 'moulting.' At each change of skin a sudden and easily noticed increase of size takes place; and, before further growth is possible, another moult must be undergone.

Directly after each moult the body will be found to be quite soft, but the skin quickly hardens again.

The manner in which the 'old clo'' are cast off is curious. For some time before the change takes place, the insect appears to 'sicken,' taking no food and wearing a very mournful air. At last it wakes up into something like activity. Now is the time to watch. If--in the case of a silkworm, for example--the watching is begun a little earlier than this, it will be found that the day before the change, the insect deliberately binds its hinder legs to the leaf on which it rests by silken threads. This done, it remains motionless. Soon after, through the transparent skin, a second head, larger than the first, will be seen; then the body is raised, and the skin is separated from it by the formation of a fluid which circulates between the old skin and the body. Next, by a series of vigorous movements, the old skin cracks along the back, and the insect first pushes out its head and the fore-part of the body, and then withdraws the hinder part. In a few minutes all is over, and the old skin is left bound to the leaf by the silken threads. How complete this change is may be seen from the fact that even the breathing tubes and the inner lining of the digestive organs are cast off.

This process, in the case of the caterpillar, takes place no less than four times--in some caterpillars five times. Ten days separate each of the first four moults, and an interval of sixteen days elapses between the fourth, or fifth, and last. This last moult is followed by a still greater change, the caterpillar passing into a state of coma, or sleep, during which it is turned into the butterfly or moth. For this purpose it spins a winding-sheet of silk, or digs down into the ground and forms a case, or cocoon; or else it hangs itself by the tail, and becomes strangely transformed into what we call a 'chrysalis.' From the cocoon, or chrysalis, as the case may be, the butterfly or moth sooner or later makes its appearance.

To give an idea of the great increase of growth in insects, let us take the case of the silkworm. At the time of hatching, the little worm weighs about the one-hundredth part of a grain; when fully grown, it weighs ninety-five grains. During this time, therefore, it has increased ninety-five thousand times its original weight, and it has eaten sixty thousand times its weight of food!

The change from the worm-like caterpillar to the butterfly is a great one, and, if we did not know it so well, would be startling. This change is known as a 'complete metamorphosis.' The dragon-fly is another insect with a complete metamorphosis. How the dragon-fly moults you will see in the illustration (fig. 1): even an acrobat might envy him!

Carefully examine the series of figures from A to D. The empty case at A shows the last stage of the larval life. Out of this case the young dragon-fly is just emerging. In C he has gained his freedom, and is stopping to take breath and allow his wings to expand. By the time this has taken place, they will be nearly as long as the body (as in D).

The locust furnishes us with an instance of what is known as 'incomplete metamorphosis.' In other words, the young, when they emerge from the egg, are very little different from the parent form. The youngest locust in the illustration (fig. 2) is obviously a locust, though he lacks wings; but there is no promise of the butterfly in the worm-like caterpillar.

The cockroach, like the grasshopper and the locust, only undergoes an incomplete metamorphosis. The empty case of a newly-moulted cockroach is shown in fig. 3. The slit(s) along the back marks the spot where the insect crept out.

TOYS FROM THE STREETS.

(Continued from page 382.)

The most remarkable toy in our second illustration is that in the middle. It is a wonderful Japanese screen or fan, which shuts up into the space of a few inches. These fans are made in three sizes, the largest, and the very latest, as far as invention goes, being eighteen inches in diameter. The whole of the fan is made by machinery! An amazing machine cuts out each layer of paper of the proper size and shape, and when all the parts are ready, sticks them neatly together. Most Japanese toys--which really are Japanese, not mere imitations of Japanese designs--are made by hand; but this one is due to machinery alone.

The other toys in this picture are mostly machine-made, and their uses can be easily seen. But the cup and ball, and the 'two bears,' as the strange figures hammering on an anvil in the top left-hand corner are called, are made by hand. The latter comes all the way from a little village in Austria, and the figures are cut out by the villagers in their homes, before being fastened together. The sewing-machine is one of the most popular toys: thousands of gross of these have been sold, according to Messrs. Lawrence, of Houndsditch, who very kindly gave us some facts about this business. A 'gross' means one hundred and forty-four; when you consider that many times one hundred and forty-four thousand have been made and purchased, you will see what a vast trade is done.

The little train in a box, a very popular toy, is made in Germany, mainly by machinery. All the wheels of each carriage go round, and the carriages themselves can be unhooked and used separately. The funny little camera--of course, it does not take real photographs--is an English toy. So is the tiny tin of biscuits. The biscuits are real, and are made specially for these wonderful little boxes.

(Concluded on page 403.)

THE LOVER-DOLL.

Pardon, dearest Araminta, If I go not on my knees, For my joints are out of order, When I bend they crack and wheeze.

When I saw you in the doll's-house, Then I felt young Cupid's dart Striking through my crimson waistcoat, Till it stuck within my heart.

Though my blood is not the bluest, Still, for you (the fact remains) I would gladly shed the last drop Of the sawdust in my veins.

Do not scorn me, Araminta, To my suit your favour lend; I would fold my arms around you, Only that I cannot bend.

For, before I fell in love, dear, Ere I hoped with you to wed, Careless Mistress Baby dropped me Down the stairs upon my head.

But I'll probably recover When I've had a dose of glue, And, come life or death, will ever Be to Araminta true.

HIS FIRST WOLF HUNT.

By HAROLD ERICSON.

It happened in Russia, when I was spending the winter with a cousin who lives in St. Petersburg. This was ten years ago and we were mere boys, both of us. There is plenty to do in Russia, in winter, for those who like sledging, skating, ice-yachting, and so on, and I think I thoroughly enjoyed all these forms of amusement. Well, one day near the beginning of the winter, before the really great snows had fallen, a big wind came and swept away every particle of snow that had fallen from the twenty miles of ice which divided St. Petersburg from Cronstadt, thus giving us such an opportunity for a day's skating on a grand scale as we might never meet with again throughout our lives.

My cousin Tom had an idea in the evening just before bed-time, with the result that we ordered sandwiches for an early hour next morning and went to bed promptly, our minds full of the delightful day we were going to spend on the Gulf of Finland, now a shining field of splendid, smooth ice.

The great day broke magnificently, a glorious, sunshiny December day, the thermometer at zero, or near it, but the air so dry and bathed in sun that one was not conscious of the cold.

Oh, the joy of feeling oneself flying through the air as we raced side by side over the firm, glass-like plain of ice! We must have skated at full pace for five miles at least before we pulled up, puffing and gloriously happy, in response to an exclamation from Tom.

'It's splendid,' he said, 'and I should like to go on for miles and miles; but Father warned me to look out when we came somewhere near the middle of the gulf; he has skated here a good deal in former years, and he says one must be on the look-out for fissures which are caused by a very hard frost like this; the ice suddenly cracks and parts, sometimes only a few inches, sometimes several feet, even up to fifteen feet or so. I believe I see a crack on ahead, and that's why I stopped.'

We skated slowly forward a short way. Sure enough, there opened out before our eyes, plain as possible, a fissure of several feet in width, the water looking black and cruel as it welled up to the edge of the ice as though it longed to get at us.

'Nice sort of place if one had skated up to it at dusk, eh?' said Tom.

The water certainly looked very grim.

'It's all very well, but what are we going to do?' said I. 'It will be no fun if this is the end of our skate, and we can't get to Cronstadt!'

'Perhaps it's only a local crack; we will skate along it, first one way and then the other, and see.'

We did so, but it appeared that the spot at which we originally struck the fissure was the narrowest place; it widened at either side.

We stood and stared at it. Tom spoke first.

'Dare you?' he asked.

I saw what he meant and remained silent, considering. 'It's about six feet,' I said, 'I suppose one could fly it--both feet together, eh?'

'Yes; come on--no use thinking--we will go for it; I will give you a lead. Hold out your coat to me and pull me in if I fall short.'

Tom took a good run, got up a great speed, and launched himself into the air. He must have cleared eight or ten feet at least. 'Come on!' he laughed, 'it's as easy as winking.'

I must confess that I was more than a little frightened as I prepared to follow my daring cousin. I imitated his methods as closely as I could; I got a terrific speed up and let myself go.

I cleared the open water easily, but so great was my impetus that I turned head over heels at the other side, and lay panting and laughing on the ice.

Presently we were in full sweep once more towards Cronstadt; we reached the 'half-way house' without adventure; this was a little wooden hut built on the ice for the accommodation of travellers in need of shelter or warmth. It was kept by a man and his wife, who must have found it a weird house to live in all the winter.

'We heard wolves last night,' they told us; 'get back before dusk if you are wise!'

We thought little of the warning. We meant to be home by daylight. As for the wolves, they would have to be active animals to keep up with us at our pace!

Having enjoyed a cup of coffee and a cake apiece we continued our journey, and a few miles beyond the rest-house, came across another fissure which we calculated to be ten feet across.

By this time we were reckless, or very over confident. 'My turn to give you a lead!' said I, and suiting the action to the words, I worked up pace, flew out, and cleared the black water with ease. Tom followed and cleared it also, but in alighting he twisted his ankle a little. He uttered an exclamation of pain and sat down a moment, rubbing his leg. He said it was nothing serious, however, and indeed, he was up and off again in a few moments.

(Concluded on page 406.)

AN IMPRESSION OF ZANZIBAR.

A curious sight is told of by a gentleman who was lately in Zanzibar. 'Perhaps the most vivid impression that I brought away from my hurried visit to Zanzibar,' he says, 'was that of seeing the native carpenters in the Cathedral carving the memorial to Bishop Smythies, and planing with their toes, which were decked with silver rings!'

THE WRECK OF THE 'HOPE.'

A True Story.

'What a lovely day!' said Eileen, as she sat by her little brother's side, whilst John, the old boatman, rowed them across the bay. The rarest shells were only to be found at the Point, and both children were eager collectors.

'It seems always smooth water in this bay,' said Maurice--'so different from where we went last year in Cornwall. There the great, big waves seemed always dashing against the shore.'

'You wait a bit, Master Maurice!' said old John. 'You have only been here a week or two, and it has been fine weather all the time; but when a storm gets up, I will answer for it you would not know the place. There are no fiercer waves round England than those that beat against the cliffs yonder at times'--and the old man waved his hand at the cliffs just behind him.

'I should like to see a storm here,' said Maurice, as he clasped his hands round his knees and stared thoughtfully before him.

'Don't say that, sir,' answered John. 'It is a terrible thing, is a wreck on this coast; some poor vessel is sure to be dashed against the cruel cliffs in a storm, and then there are orphans and widows to mourn her loss.'

'Did you ever see a shipwreck?' asked Eileen.

'Many a one, Missy,' was the old man's quiet answer.

'But I mean, were you ever in a shipwreck?' pursued Eileen.

'I was, once,' said John, slowly.

'Oh, tell us about it, please!' begged Maurice.

'It's a long time ago now,' said the old boatman. 'I was a lad of twelve or thereabouts, on my first voyage. The vessel was the Hope, of Liverpool, and we had a cargo of Manchester goods. It was roughish weather when we started, and it kept on getting worse and worse, and by-and-bye such a storm arose as it seemed impossible for any ship to weather. Anyway, it was too much for the poor old Hope--she was driven on to the rocks off the Welsh coast and broke up like matches.'

'But the people on board! what became of them?' asked Eileen in an awe-struck tone.

'Drowned!' said old John, shortly.

'But,' said Eileen, suddenly, 'you were on that ship--you said so--and you are not drowned!'

'No, Missy, I am not,' said the old man suddenly. 'I had a most wonderful escape. It seems hard to believe that a little ignorant boy as I was should have been the only one saved out of that fine crew; but so it was.'

'Tell us about it,' said Maurice, fixing his eyes on the old man's weather-beaten face.

'When the storm was at its worst, and it was plain that the ship must founder, a kind-hearted sailor took me with him to the top of the main-mast. We had hardly got there before the ship gave a great lurch, and I believe the mast fell. Anyway, when next I knew anything, I found myself lying on the grass at the top of a low cliff, with the sea roaring below me. I had been thrown there as the mast fell.'

'Were you the only one saved?' asked Maurice.

'So they told me,' said old John. 'But come,' he said, in a different tone, and beginning to row at his utmost speed, 'we must get to the Point before high tide, or there will be no shells for you to-day.'

The mention of shells drove away the melancholy thoughts which John's story had occasioned, and the wreck of the Hope was forgotten as the children landed at the Point and began eagerly searching for new specimens.

S. CLARENDON.

SPY OR GUIDE?

'I believe this forest goes on to the end of the world!' exclaimed the Colonel of the 18th Hanoverian regiment at the close of an autumn day in the year 1750. 'I was told it was a six hours' journey to Schustadt, but it seems as if we must tramp right across Germany to reach it.'

'I wonder if we have taken a wrong track?' answered the Major, who was riding by his side, whilst behind trudged the men, their white breeches, scarlet coats, and three-cornered hats looking strangely out of place in that dense pine forest.

'We must find out somehow,' said the Colonel, reining up his horse. 'There must be a peasant of some sort in these regions--a wood-cutter or charcoal burner. Call a halt, Wenzler, and let the men scatter in different directions, and tell the first who finds any one capable of acting as guide to bring him straight to me.'

The halt was called, the order given, and the soldiers disappeared amongst the pine trunks, amidst laughter and declarations from each that he would be the first to find a guide. The discovery, however, fell to Schmidt, a young corporal, who had hardly gone a hundred yards into the forest before he came on a lad who was amusing himself by gathering raspberries.

Schmidt was fond of what he called a joke, and laying a rough hand on the lad's shoulder, he said, in a voice purposely very fierce, 'You are my prisoner! I am to bring you to our Colonel, and you will probably be shot as a spy.'

The boy looked up in surprise, and turned pale as he answered: 'I am no spy! I have come out from the town to gather raspberries!'

'I know nothing about raspberries,' answered the man, still enjoying his joke, and taking small heed of the lad's evident terror; 'I must bring you before my Colonel,' and he dragged the terrified boy along the track till he reached the spot where the two officers and some of the soldiers were standing.

'Well, Schmidt; first capture!' said the Colonel, in a pleased tone, for he had not expected him to find any one in so short a time.

'Yes, your honour,' said Schmidt, now releasing the boy, who, placing his hands behind him, now addressed the Colonel in as firm a voice as he could muster.

'Please, Colonel,' he said, 'do not shoot me! I am not a spy--indeed I am not! My name is Fritz Nestor, and I live with my mother in Schustadt.'

The men standing round could not resist smiling at this odd speech, for they knew nothing of Schmidt's 'joke,' and the Colonel, bending down so as to be more of a level with the little fellow, said in a half-puzzled tone:

'You surely cannot think we should shoot you! We are not in an enemy's country, and if we were we do not shoot children. What could have put such a ridiculous idea into your head?'

'He said so,' said the boy, pointing to the corporal, whose very pigtail quivered with fear at being thus brought to his Colonel's notice.

The Colonel straightened himself and looked full at the corporal, who was standing stiffly at his right hand. 'Next time you wish to play a practical joke, corporal,' he said sternly, 'let it be with a man, and not a child! Now, my little fellow,' he said, turning to the boy, 'you may take my word for it that no one will hurt you. Can you show us the right way to Schustadt? I suppose you know it?'

'Oh, yes, sir,' said the boy brightly. 'It is barely a mile away.'

'That is good hearing,' said the Colonel, and the men were quickly recalled, and the march began once more, the boy stepping out bravely in front of the column, much preferring the part of guide to that of a spy.

THE PROMISE OF THE STORM.

I do not mind the hurricane, And biting winter rain; I love to watch them sweep across The woodland and the plain; For as they roar the trees among, I fancy I can hear A whisper like a fairy's song: 'The spring is drawing near.'

I do not mind the gloomy days, When clouds are dark and low, And rough winds from the meadows tear Their tattered sheets of snow; For through those ragged holes I've seen A sight the heart to cheer, The face of some sweet flower that tells, 'The spring is drawing near.'

O children big, and children small, This wisdom bear in mind: Frown not on any rains that fall, Nor grumble at the wind; And when the gloomy winter's day Is far from blithe and warm, Look well, and think, and you will find A promise in the storm.

A DANGEROUS TRAVELLER.

A True Anecdote.

'Cab, Madam?' said a driver; and a lady who wanted a cab got hastily in. But the driver had not proceeded very far before a loud scream from the lady startled him.

When he had recovered himself he got down, and opened the door of the cab. A strange sight met his eyes: the poor lady was huddled up in one corner, and a large and ugly snake reared its head angrily from the floor of the cab.

The driver helped the lady out, and shut the snake up in the cab, and drove as fast as he could to the police station. He remembered then how the keeper of a menagerie had that morning hired his vehicle. The keeper, while he took his drive, had placed the snake, for safe-keeping, under the seat of the cab, and, getting out at his journey's end, had forgotten the snake!

After some delay, a man was procured who killed the reptile; but it was a long time before the lady cared to enter a cab again without searching to see if there were any other travellers already in it.

PUZZLERS FOR WISE HEADS.

ANSWER TO PUZZLE ON PAGE 371.

16.--1. Alexander the Great. 2. Charlemagne. 3. Queen Elizabeth. 4. Catherine of Russia. 5. Marie Antoinette. 6. Cleopatra.

INDIAN WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY.

Ages before the day when Marconi succeeded in establishing his wireless telegraphy, the Indians of North America carried on a system of signalling by smoke rings and fire arrows.

The settler's wife, looking out from her lonely cabin on the prairie, at the band of roving Indians, learned to note and understand the Indian smoke signals, puffing lightly into the clear blue of the prairie sky. These smoke signals are always sent in puffs or rings, so that there may be no chance of mistaking them for a camp fire. The puffs are made by covering a fire with a blanket for a minute. Then the blanket is lifted quickly, and the smoke ascends in a ring or puff. The blanketing process is repeated until a column of rings warns the Indians far and near to 'Look out,' or 'Be on the watch.' Two smokes built close together mean, 'Camp here.' Three smokes signal 'Danger.'

Signalling at night was carried on by means of fire arrows. Their meaning was like that of the smokes. The fiery trail left by the arrow in its flight through the darkness was the same signal as one smoke. The others tallied, and a flight of several fiery arrows said, 'The enemy are too many for us.'

ROSS FRAME.

CRUISERS IN THE CLOUDS.

XII.--SOME WONDERS OF THE SKY.

Behind the clouds there are marvels as endless as those on the earth itself. Among those who have attempted to describe some of them, few have done so as vividly as the French astronomer, M. Flammarion. He has been up in sunshine and clouds, at sunrise and sunset, and looked down on the sleeping world all through the summer night.

On one of these pleasant voyages, M. Flammarion had for some time been sailing in a dense cloud, which made even the gas-bag above quite invisible, when suddenly the air was filled with most beautiful music. It seemed as though some mysterious band was playing in the very cloud itself, only a few yards away. M. Flammarion strained his eyes in every direction, but nothing except the white mist met his gaze. By-and-by, however, the cloud grew brighter, and a few moments later the haze seemed to open and let him into a world of dazzling light. He had ascended right through the rain-cloud, and broken into fine weather on the other side. On leaving the cloud the mysterious music had ceased. M. Flammarion learned afterwards that it had been produced by the orchestra of a small town over which he was sailing at the time. The rising sound had been caught and retained by the cloud, for, strange to say, while dead silence is found in the clear sky at a certain height, a cloud at the same level will often be full of sounds coming from the world below.

The object of M. Flammarion's voyage was to study the secrets of the air, and to do this properly it was necessary to go up in all sorts of weather. In a long journey from Paris across the border into Prussia, most of the distance was done in a dark and rainy night. Finding that the falling rain had made the balloon so heavy that it was sinking to the earth, he threw out ballast and rose above the cloud. But the struggling moon gave little light, and he was greatly struck by hearing, in the darkness far below, the constant noise of the falling rain. The sense of loneliness in such surroundings was very strong.

Experiments from the floating car have proved that the best echo is produced by the smooth surface of a lake. Thus when the balloon was once over a large sheet of water, the traveller called out the names of the stars reflected on its surface. Each name was echoed back with great clearness, as though some fairy of the lake were mocking him.

'Tell me, then,' cried the aeronaut at last, in fun, 'what the inhabitants of these stars are like?'

But no reply was made, for the balloon had sailed beyond the margin of the water, and his voice had fallen on the solid earth. To obtain an echo from that is more difficult.

On one occasion, wishing to find out if the balloon were rising or falling, M. Flammarion dropped a bottle over the side of the car. To his astonishment it stood in the air as though hanging there. It would have been just the same if he had placed a table out there too, with a chair beside it, and a knife and fork and plate upon it. He might have got out himself and sat on the chair, and they would all have appeared to be remaining still in mid-air. But as a matter of fact the bottle and the balloon were descending to earth at exactly the same speed. This would never do, and so a little ballast was thrown out. The bottle immediately seem to shoot downwards, though not quite in a vertical line, for it still moved with the impetus it had been given when thrown overboard. Ten seconds later M. Flammarion saw it reach the earth in the centre of a large field.

Each voyage brought the explorer some fresh surprise; but we must say good-bye to M. Flammarion and his balloon, for his discoveries and adventures are too many to follow. Before, however, we end these cruises in the clouds altogether, there is time for a word or two about the many machines which have been made in the hope of enabling men to soar in the skies without the aid of a balloon. Attempts to do this were made long before the Montgolfiers sent up their paper bag at Annonay, and beyond the fact that machines have been invented which can lift themselves into the sky, very little progress has been really made. Perhaps the most important of these inventions are those of Professor Langley and Sir Hiram Maxim. After many years of labour, Professor Langley of Washington succeeded, on May 6th, 1896, in launching his flying machine from the shores of the Potomac. The broad sails, or 'aeroplanes,' as they are called, cleaved the air like the wings of a bird, and kept up a steady flight for a minute and a half.

Somewhat similar in outward design is the huge mechanical bird built by Sir Hiram Maxim. Broad stretches of canvas are arranged horizontally one above the other, tilting a little upwards in front. Instead of legs and feet, this strange bird has wheels running on rails. When the machine is put in motion it skims over the rails at a great speed, and the effort made by the 'aeroplanes' to climb the air shows a great power of flight. But the machine is prevented from leaving the rails by a second pair of small wheels running on the under-side, and the strain on these wheels shows the strength of the giant wings; for Sir Hiram Maxim's only object is to prove that aerial ships built in such a way would have great buoyancy. A number of them, in a modified form, have been fitted to a 'giant longstride,' and many of the London boys and girls who have been to the Exhibitions (at Earl's Court and elsewhere), where the longstride stands, know something of the principle of the flying machine.

But, after all, the greatest successes in human flight have been won in fancy. And here again, the honour belongs to France, for what more entrancing journey was ever made than that taken by the passengers in the late Jules Verne's 'Clipper of the Clouds?' Built in the form of an ocean-goer, but with large screws worked horizontally at the summits of the masts, this flying ship made a journey round the world, visiting the most distant countries, for when the broad, blue sky is the road no obstacle can lie in the way. True, when the enchanting book is ended, we know that it was only a dream, yet we must remember that many of the great French author's dreams have been realised before now.

JOHN LEA.

ANIMAL MAKESHIFTS.

True Anecdotes.

VI.--READY-MADE HOMES.

When men first made houses, with a view to their own comfort, they little thought that they were providing a ready-made home for a host of outsiders, who took so readily to our quarters that we wonder where they can have lived before. How did the stork get on without his chimney, the merry sparrow without his gutter, the clothes-moth without cupboards, the house-spider without dirty corners and ceilings? In Holland the stork makes free with the house-top as a matter of course, often dropping a stray eel, small snake, or frog, intended for his young, down the chimney into the fireless grate of his astonished hosts below. He knows that nobody would be cruel enough to meddle with that untidy bundle of sticks which houses his family circle. The devotion of these beautiful birds to the fluffy youngsters on the roof is an example to those beneath it. In Turkey the stork is greatly respected, and lately he has been better thought of than ever. A small village on the Gulf of Ismidt caught fire, and over two hundred houses were destroyed. Many storks' nests were there, and when the fire began to rage the terrified birds fled pell-mell, but for a few moments only. After a brief pause they recovered their presence of mind, and with a rush the same broad wings which had hurried them away from death bore them as swiftly back to the burning stacks, where, in each nest, there lay two or three helpless young. The old birds settled down over the broods, covered them with their wings, and one after another perished without another attempt to save themselves.

What the stork is abroad, the swallow is, or ought to be, in England, honoured and admired. Here he makes his summer home, and for the few months during which he stays amply earns his keep by clearing away the swarms of flies. The number of injurious insects consumed by one pair of swallows and their young during a single day cannot be less than one thousand, and the number killed during the season is beyond calculation.

Swallows are quick to avail themselves of ready-made nooks for their nests. When the eaves and similar places will not do, they boldly enter houses and churches, and take any spot that takes their fancy. A farmer at Crux Eastern was honoured by a couple who chose a door inside his home, and, when the nest was accidentally shaken down, pitched upon another door. The farmer's wife, fearing that this nest would be destroyed also, drove a large nail into the woodwork beneath as a support. But Dame Swallow could not put up with this interference, and, leaving the second nest, she chose the crank of a bell-wire in the kitchen. Without more ado she built, laid eggs, and hatched them, though the farmer gave a supper to his men while she was still house-keeping, and while the sheep-shearers enjoyed their noisy feast, the little pair flew in and out, feeding their young as quietly as if they were utterly alone.

Much might be said of the fondness shown by some unbidden guests for our food, of the trickery of the mouse, or of the cricket's habit of tumbling into the milk, while taking unlawful sips. But a plea can be found even for the most despised of creatures. Cheese is a dainty to the pilfering mouse, but the eggs of the cockroach are a still daintier morsel. The cricket is a scavenger, and besides cheering us by his sprightly song, rids the floor of tiny atoms of insanitary dust, and the house-spider preys on the clothes-moth. One lesson at least is taught by many a household insect, that of strict cleanliness.

Besides our regular housemates, many strange creatures will live with us in time of trouble, forgetful of their fear. The following is a true and delightful instance of this. On one of the Highland hills an old woman lived quite alone. After a severe snow-storm, some shepherds, fearing for her safety, went to the rescue and found her hut snowed up. They were unable to trace it till a curl of smoke was seen rising out of a drift. The warmth had melted a small hollow just above the hole in her roof which served as a chimney. Down this they called, 'Jenny, are you living?' For answer a fox darted out of the hole and ran away. Again they called. 'Yes,' answered the old woman. 'Heaven has been very good to me. I have been fed by the beasts of the wood.' 'What do you mean?' asked the men. She said, 'A wild fox came down the chimney to take shelter. I spoke kindly to it, and it came and sat by the fire, and every day he went out and brought me in a hare or a rabbit.'

This story makes one feel how easily the fear and dread of us, which so many creatures are forced to feel, might be changed into trust and love, so that we might fulfil the text, 'The beast of the field shall be at peace with thee.'

EDITH CARRINGTON.

AFLOAT ON THE DOGGER BANK.

A Story of Adventure on the North Sea and in China.

(Continued from page 387.)

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Chapter XXIII

The Boxers had evidently heard that Charlie and the two Chinamen had ventured to leave the shelter of the mission enclosure, and it was plain that they had hoped to surprise them. And had they been a minute earlier, they would undoubtedly have succeeded in doing so. In fact, the foremost man was so close upon them that he seized the ladder just as it was being raised, and, tugging hard, pulled it out of Barton's hands. This capture, trivial though it was, filled the Boxers with enthusiasm. With fierce shouts they rushed at the gates and attacked them with hatchets. But, as the gates were of iron, and had been made and fixed with the intention of resisting such assaults, their efforts were in vain. Soon they recognised that they were wasting their strength, and, at a signal from their leader, they turned away and ran to seek shelter. Soon there was not a living Boxer visible to the missionaries and their friends.

They had had enough fighting for one day, and did not again expose themselves. The besieged party took the opportunity to strengthen their defences and make other preparations for a long siege.

'I hope,' Barton said, in answer to a question from Charlie, 'that we shall be relieved within a week from to-day, as the missionaries who had to seek shelter here sent trustworthy messengers to Peking and Wei-hai-wei with letters to the British officials, telling them of their sufferings and whither they were bound; and the day before you arrived I sent off two messengers with notes for the captain of any British warship they could find, stating that we were besieged.'

About ten o'clock on the following morning the Boxers renewed their attack, but in a manner which the defenders had not expected. Instead of rushing into the open, as they had done before, they fired from the houses facing the mission building.

'Get the women and children into the basement at once,' Barton shouted to one of his colleagues, for some of the Boxers were firing from the roofs of the houses into the mission enclosure.

'The Boxers take good care to keep under cover,' Charlie remarked. 'Evidently we have taught them to respect us.'

'They won't remain concealed for many hours,' said Ping Wang. 'When they get excited they will make another attack on the gate.'

His words came true. For nearly one hour the Boxers continued to fire upon the missionaries' house, doing severe damage to it. Their success elated them, and the fact that the besieged did not reply to the attack probably made them believe that they had used up all their ammunition. At any rate, they suddenly rushed out of the houses and made for the mission gate, waving flags and shouting wildly. Fred and Barton, at some newly-made loop-holes, and Charlie, Mr. Wilkins, and Ping Wang at their former positions, fired rapidly at the advancing mob, which, with loud shouts and wild gestures, rushed at the gate to make another attempt to destroy it. But the gate resisted all their efforts.

'Oh, for a Maxim!' Charlie sighed. 'That would disperse them.'

'So would boiling water,' Mr. Wilkins remarked, 'but we can't spare it. I wonder----'

What Mr. Wilkins intended to say was never known, for at that moment Number One, who was stationed, revolver in hand, some yards away, hailed them excitedly: 'Lun, lun!' he shouted; 'Boxer man climbee up ladder plenty quick.'

Charlie and Mr. Wilkins looked out from among the sandbags, and saw that the Boxers had placed two ladders a foot or two to the left of where Number One was posted. As the defenders looked out, some who had remained under cover fired at them. Charlie drew back instantly, for a bullet passed within an inch of his head, and, hurrying down from his platform, ran to the spot where the Boxers hoped to scale the wall. One of them was already on it. He dropped from the wall into the mission enclosure, and rushed with wild shouts at Number One, who fired but failed to hit him. But Charlie was close at hand, and, when the Boxer was about ten yards from Number One he pressed the trigger of his rifle, and the daring fanatic fell. But four more Boxers had dropped into the enclosure, and, not daunted by the fate of their comrade, were rushing at Charlie and Number One. The latter fired his revolver, and, to his great surprise, shot the foremost Boxer in the left leg. Almost at the same moment Charlie put another out of the fight, but, before he could reload, the third Boxer was close upon him. Dropping the cartridge, Charlie grasped his rifle in both hands near the muzzle, and, swinging it over his shoulder, brought the butt down on his assailant's head. The fourth man, seeing the fate of his comrades, tried to escape, but his efforts were fruitless.

'Tell him to surrender,' Charlie said to Number One.

Number One did so, and the Boxer at once went down on his knees, and, bending forward, placed his forehead and the palms of his hands on the ground.

'Get some rope and bind him securely,' Charlie instructed Number One, who obeyed at once.

Several other Boxers had been sitting on top of the wall, watching the fight, and, when they saw that their comrades were getting the worst of it, instead of going to their help, they retired quickly to join the mob, which, however, had once more taken to flight. The gallant little band of defenders were, naturally, very pleased at their victory, which, alas! they soon discovered was very dearly bought. To their great grief, the veteran missionary, Mr. Wilkins, had been shot through the throat and was dead. Evidently the fatal wound had been received when he looked out to see if the Boxers really were climbing the wall. He was buried at sunset in a corner of the mission enclosure, and his death cast a gloom over the defenders.

Two weeks passed away, and there was still no news of the long-expected relief. Food was so scarce that it was indeed wonderful how the besieged managed to exist. Four of them had died, and were now lying in the little cemetery in the corner of the enclosure. Others were seriously ill, and it was feared that, unless relief came speedily, they, too, would soon succumb.

The Boxers had altered their plans on finding that they could not carry the mission buildings by assault, and now relied upon starving out the defenders. By day or by night scarcely a single Boxer was to be seen, although hundreds were within a stone's-throw. Every building that could be seen from the mission had a Boxer flag planted on it, and every house facing it had been fortified. From these houses the Boxers, day and night, fired on the mission, the residential part of which, except the basement, was in a ruined condition. To cross from the platforms to the mission house was a work of danger, for some trained Chinese soldiers, who had joined the Boxers, were by no means bad shots, and, as they could look down into the enclosure, they fired every time that one of the defenders was seen. They used a large amount of ammunition, but without drawing the fire of the missionaries and their friends.

Another week passed--the most disastrous that the besieged had gone through. Two more of them had died from fatigue, fever, and want of proper food. The mule which had drawn the missionaries' trap for some years, had been killed and skinned, and in the course of two or three days the last of it would be eaten. When that was gone there would not be an atom of food left. If it had not been for the women and children, the men would have made a sortie and died facing overwhelming odds.

'We must remain where we are for their sake,' Barton declared, and the rest agreed with him. Then they discussed how to make the remainder of the mule-flesh last a day or two longer than they hoped; but they were already on such short rations that it was almost impossible to reduce them.

'What's that?' Charlie exclaimed, suddenly. 'Didn't you hear anything?'

'Only those two shots which the Boxers fired,' Fred replied.

'No, not that. I thought I heard a cheer.'

'Imagination, I'm afraid,' Barton said, sorrowfully, but he had scarcely uttered the words when the sound of firing in the distance was heard distinctly.

'Relief!' Charlie declared, excitedly. 'I'm certain it was an English cheer which I heard.'

'The firing is outside the town,' Ping Wang remarked, 'and the Boxers have heard it. Look, they're leaving their shelter.'

The sound of the firing had evidently caused the greatest excitement among the Boxers. They streamed out of the houses and ran off in the direction of the gates through which the advancing force, whether friend or foe, would have to enter the town.

The sound of firing in the distance now became louder, and it was plain that a fierce fight was raging somewhere near the town gates. Soon they knew that the force attacking the town was winning, for several terror-stricken Chinamen rushed past the mission, seeking some place in which to hide.

(Continued on page 402.)

AFLOAT ON THE DOGGER BANK.

A Story of Adventure on the North Sea and in China.

(Continued from page 399.)

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Chapter XXIV

Three-quarters of an hour after the first sound of firing was heard by Charlie and his friends, a loud, unmistakably British cheer rang through the air.

'They've entered the town,' Fred exclaimed, and cheered wildly. Every Englishman, and Ping Wang also, joined in the cheer. Then they fell into silence, listening to the distant sounds. The Boxers were yelling furiously, hoping to terrify the Englishmen who had entered the town.

'They're marching straight through the town,' one of the missionaries declared anxiously. 'Perhaps they don't know that we are here.'

'They are certain to be aware of that,' Barton answered. 'No doubt they are going to secure the other gate.'

'My cally message to Number One soldier man,' Number One suggested. 'Say Clistian missionalies big piecee hungy.'

'But the Boxers might kill you,' Barton hinted.

'Boxer man nebber killee me. My plenty clebber. Boxer man nebber catchee me.'

'All right then; you may go.'

Number One grinned with delight, and, when the bamboo ladder had been lowered over the wall, went off at a run.

Charlie, Fred, and their friends found the time pass very slowly. They could hear that the English were fighting their way steadily through the town, and every minute their anxiety to see their gallant countrymen increased. Presently a loud British cheer told them that the other gate had been captured. The firing now became less frequent, and in about ten minutes it ceased entirely.

The excitement in the mission enclosure was now intense. The surviving women and children came out of the basement where they had been prisoners for more than three weeks, and climbed up on the platforms to get the first view of their deliverers. The native Christians, who had borne the hardships of the siege uncomplainingly, chatted and laughed gaily. The sick and wounded lay in the little hospital with their eyes fixed on the door.

'They're coming!' Charlie shouted a few minutes later, and the good news thrilled both Englishmen and Chinamen.

The tramp of drilled men came nearer and nearer, and soon from out of the street, almost facing the mission buildings, marched a British naval officer. He gave a swift glance along the wall, and seeing the men and women peering through the sandbags, he saluted them with his sword. They answered him with a cheer, and instantly some fifty smiling, sun-burnt tars burst into a loud 'Hip, hip, hoorah!'

With the smartness characteristic of our navy the men were formed up in a line with their backs to the mission wall. The officer in command gave one look at them, and then almost ran up the ladder which Barton had lowered.

'It is!' Charlie exclaimed, delightedly, as the officer reached the top of the ladder. 'It's our old friend Williams.'

'So it is,' Fred declared, as he recognised the officer of the revenue cutter, who had captured the coper in which his brother and Ping Wang were unwilling passengers.

Williams heard his name mentioned as he vaulted over the wall on to the platform, and the next moment he recognised his friends.

'Well, this is a delightful surprise!' he exclaimed, as he grasped Charlie's hand.

'It's still more delightful for us,' Fred declared.

'You've had a very rough time, I fear,' said Williams, when he had shaken hands with his three friends. 'You look almost like skeletons, every man of you. However, you shall soon have a good feed.'

'Shall we open the gate?' Barton asked, when he and his colleagues had been introduced to Williams.

'Certainly,' Williams replied; but when he saw how securely the gate had been barricaded, he knew that the task would be more than the half-starved defenders of the mission could accomplish.

'I'll call some of my men to do it,' he said, and in a few moments twelve jovial, sun-burnt, travel-stained sailors had climbed the ladder and entered the enclosure. Instantly the men, women, and children surrounded them, grasping their hands, and showering blessings on them.

'Come along, men,' Williams shouted out. 'Down with that barricade, and open the gates.'

The sailors started their work at once. In a few minutes the barricade, which had taken the missionaries some days to build, was torn down, and the gates thrown open. Number One was the first person to enter the enclosure. He carried a big bowl of cooked rice, which was probably loot, and, hurrying to the ladies and children, placed the tempting dish before them.

'Welly good,' he declared, emphatically; 'makee plenty stlong.'

When every one had had as much as was safe after their long fast, Williams drew Charlie, Fred, and Ping Wang aside. 'I suppose you haven't succeeded in getting that treasure?' he said.

'No, but we got very close to it,' Charlie replied, and then told him of their adventures in Kwang-ngan.

'You've been unfortunate,' Williams admitted. 'However, I'll see what I can do. We expect some Japanese troops here to-morrow, and as soon as they arrive we are all going to march on Kwang-ngan. Tell me exactly where the idol is.'

'Let us go to Kwang-ngan with you,' Charlie suggested.

'But, my dear fellows,' Williams replied, 'you're not in a fit state for any more fighting.'

'It's only sleep we want,' Charlie declared. 'We shall be as fit as any one after we have had a good long rest.'

'If that's the case, I shall be glad of your company; but you must turn in at once.'

'Before we do that we want to know how it is that you are here. When we last saw you, you had no idea of going to China.'

'Well, I'll soon explain that. My capture of that coper on which I found you and Ping Wang won the approval of the authorities, and, fortunately for me, I was able to effect another capture, about three weeks later. Soon afterwards I received orders to go up to London, and in less than a week I was on my way to China to join my present ship.'

Charlie, Fred, and Ping Wang heartily congratulated their friend, but he cut them short by telling them that if they wanted to accompany him to Kwang-ngan they would have to turn in at once, and get as much sleep as possible.

'If that's the case, good-night,' Charlie replied, and all the three hurried away to their beds in the basement, and slept soundly.

When they awoke they found that the Japanese troops had arrived, and that the British sailors were to start within half an hour for Kwang-ngan. After a rapid but hearty breakfast they marched out, with the rifles at the shoulder, to report themselves to Williams, whom they found outside the enclosure inspecting the men. Some of the newly arrived Japanese soldiers had already been posted around the mission wall, and the Japanese flag flew, side by side with the Union Jack, over the gateway.

'Well,' Williams exclaimed, cheerfully, as he shook hands with Charlie, 'do you still wish to come with us?'

'Certainly,' Charlie replied, speaking for all three of them.

'Then you had better say "good-bye" to your missionary friends, for they must all start for Tien-tsin this morning. They will be safer there.'

Charlie, Fred, and Ping Wang hurried back to the mission buildings, but Barton was the only one of their late comrades in danger who was not sound asleep. They bade farewell to him, and extracted a promise from him that when next he came to England he would visit them at Lincoln.

While they had been talking, Williams had marched his men off towards the town gate which opened into the road leading to Kwang-ngan. Charlie, Fred, and Ping Wang ran after them and overtook them just as they were quitting the town. They fell in at the rear of the company. Nine of the ten miles which lay between Su-ching and Kwang-ngan were covered in about two hours and a half, and they proceeded more cautiously, but for some time met with no opposition, although, when they drew near Kwang-ngan they were surprised to find that it was a very formidable-looking place, bristling with big guns.

'They are not guns,' Ping Wang declared, smiling. 'They are simply circles which the Boxers have painted on the walls to represent guns, in the hope of frightening us.'

'But I was told that they had two guns,' said Williams.

'That is correct. One is mounted on either side of the gate.'

Ping Wang had barely finished speaking when both guns boomed, and their range was excellent, the shells bursting among the sailors. One man was killed and six were wounded. Charlie was thrown to the ground, but, much to his surprise, he found on getting up that he was not hurt.

The sailors now advanced quickly, and the Chinese gunners being apparently unable to alter their range, the shells passed harmlessly over their heads.

The attacking party soon got to within three hundred yards from the town, and the Boxers lining the wall, having so far received no hurt, became reckless. A few of them fired their rifles, but three hundred yards is a long range for most Chinamen, and not one of them succeeded in doing any damage. Nevertheless, Williams considered that the time had arrived to give the Boxers a warning. He gave the order to his men to lie down and fire a volley. It was a splendid one, and the terror which it caused among the Boxers was almost comical. The uninjured men hid themselves instantly, and not a single threat, or shout of defiance was heard from them as the sailors sprang to their feet and ran a hundred yards nearer to the wall.

They lay there unmolested for three or four minutes until the 'advance' was again sounded. As they rushed forward, the Boxers opened fire upon them with rifles and bows and arrows, and three men fell. But their comrades, breaking into a loud cheer, continued their advance, and arrived at the wall with but few casualties on the way. They had brought from Su-ching twelve long bamboo ladders, and these were speedily placed against the wall at a few yards distance from each other. The Japanese also had provided themselves with ladders.

At the signal from their officers, the men climbed nimbly up the ladders, and all along the south wall the fight became fierce. Many of the attacking party were shot before they reached the topmost rung, but their fall simply added to the determination of their comrades, and in a few minutes nearly a score of them had scaled the wall, and were engaged in a desperate hand-to-hand fight with the Boxers.

Charlie, Fred, and Ping Wang were not among the first dozen to enter the town, as the sailors who had fixed the ladder by which they wished to ascend declared that it was their right to be the first to mount it.

When the Chinamen found that they were unable to drive out the men who had entered the town, and that others were scrambling over the wall to their assistance, they turned and fled, closely pursued by the sailors. Within twenty minutes the whole English force held the village. Before long, Fred, Charlie, and Ping Wang found themselves close to the wall of Chin Choo's residence.

(Concluded on page 410.)

TOYS FROM THE STREETS.

(Concluded from page 390.)

There is not much to be said about our last batch of toys. The cat and her kittens is a wonderful toy for the money; and the round box with a crown on top is a good place to keep the pennies for the next Christmas. The doll in a box, the two other dolls, the fans, and the frog, are all actually made in Japan, and shipped to England. Fancy the little Japanese boys and girls turning their hands--for these toys are all made by hand--to work just to give pleasure to little boys and girls far off in other countries! The reason why these Japanese toys can be made so cheaply and sent so far, and yet sold at a profit, is that the Japanese, old and young alike, are able to live much more frugally and cheaply than Europeans. Japanese shipping companies, too, are anxious to get trade, and carry the toys very cheaply: during the war they actually guaranteed owners against loss or capture by the enemy.

But we must say good-bye to these toys. Remember, if you are fortunate enough to possess any of them, from what distant lands they come, and what pains are taken in making them. Remember, too, what a hard life the poor men and women who sell them have. These toys, like most other gifts, teach the old Christmas lesson of kindness to others and thankfulness for blessings.

AGAINST ODDS.

We knew, on that white frosty morning, Our rivals would make an attack, But doubt and timidity scorning, We held on our snow-covered track.

They burst from their gate helter-skelter; We counted them--four against two! There wasn't a moment for shelter, And what could we possibly do?

The snow-balls like bullets were flying, Retreat was unworthy and mean; So, all their wild volley defying, I slipped my umbrella between.

Then I called to my friend, and together, Half sheltered behind it, you know, The storm of the battle to weather, We charged at the midst of the foe.

The gateway they bravely defended, Till forced through the half-open door, And thus, in a victory, ended The battle of two against four.

HIS FIRST WOLF HUNT.

By HAROLD ERICSON.

(Concluded from page 391.)

When we reached Cronstadt Tom's ankle pained him a good deal; he had skated five miles upon it, and the injured part was swollen.

'What about getting home?' I asked in some anxiety, but Tom declared that after a couple of hour's rest at the inn in Cronstadt, where we were stopping for a meal, his foot would be as well as ever it had been. So it was, he said, when, at about two o'clock in the afternoon, we started for home. But there was no life in his skating, and presently he admitted that it hurt him badly. Two miles were covered with pain and difficulty, and many stoppages. Matters began to grow somewhat serious; at least, I thought so, though I said nothing of my fears. We were sitting on the ice, Tom holding his ankle against it in hopes that the cold would reduce the inflammation, when a sound in the distance caused us both to raise our heads. Several black specks had suddenly appeared upon the white ice-field behind us. Were they a party of skaters? Were they----

'I say!' suddenly exclaimed Tom. 'Wolves!'

I am not ashamed to say that my heart sank when my companion pronounced the black, moving spots in the distance to be wolves. I was afraid of wolves, and always had been; I think most boys and girls generally are, and I fancy that 'Little Red Riding Hood' is more or less to blame for it, together with other tales in which these animals figure.

I was frightened, very frightened. My first impulse was to take to my skates and fly like the wind before the coming terror. Then, like a jet of cold water, came the thought of Tom's bad ankle. He had risen to his feet, however, at sight of the wolves, and evidently meant to forget his sprain.

'We had better be off, old chap,' he said. 'They are coming our way. We can race them well enough on skates. It's nearer to Cronstadt than to the half-way hut, but they could cut us off on our way to Cronstadt, and, besides, there is all that horrible cat-ice near the harbour. Are you ready? Skate steadily, then; no need to get done up.'

I said nothing about his ankle, trusting that the greater trouble might possibly have driven away all recollection of the lesser, and for a mile we skated evenly and rapidly forward. Occasionally we looked back over our shoulders to see how we were holding our pursuers, for undoubtedly we were being pursued. We seemed to hold our own fairly well; they had gained upon us, no doubt, but not very much. At this rate there was no danger of our being caught--if only, that is, Tom's ankle did not 'go.' But, alas! scarcely had we covered that one mile when my companion pulled up.

'I can't go on another yard without resting my ankle, Bobby,' he said. 'Go on without me, old chap, I shall think none the worse of you; you couldn't do me any good, you know, if they caught me; besides, look here.' To my surprise and delight Tom suddenly produced from an inner pocket a small revolver. He was sitting on the ground now, and he loaded the little weapon with cartridges, which he took out of his waistcoat pocket. 'This will keep them at bay all right, so, you see, I'm as safe as ninepence. Go on, don't waste time.'

'Don't be an idiot,' said I. 'You must think me a pretty average cad if you suppose I am going to leave you alone and run away.'

Tom glanced up at me and smiled. 'To tell you the truth, old chap, I never supposed you would,' he said; 'but I had to make the suggestion.'

'Why didn't you tell me you had the revolver?' I asked, ignoring the rest of his speech; 'and what made you bring it?'

'My father said he had known wolves about the gulf in severe weather. I said nothing about it for fear you wouldn't care to come. Look at the brutes, they're only a quarter of a mile away! I feel better now; let's see how far I can get this time. If they come too near, I shall fire a shot. Unfortunately I only brought these six cartridges, so we must not waste our fire.'

For a few hundred yards Tom travelled well. We gained on the wolves, which, I suppose, observed this fact, for the leader suddenly set up a howl which set my blood running cold, and the others instantly followed suit. There were nine of them; I had counted them while Tom rested.

Manfully Tom struggled on. I could see that the exertion was hurting him fearfully.

'I don't think I can go on very much farther without a rest,' he said, presently. 'The trouble is that next time we wait about they will catch us up.'

'Then you will have to shoot, that's all,' said I, as cheerfully as I could, considering that I was in reality shivering with terror.

'Yes, I shall have to shoot. One shot will be enough, I expect. Probably they will turn and run straight back to the forest at Lachta or Oranienbaum, or wherever they come from. You are not frightened, old chap, are you?'

'Rather not,' said I. Then I added, conscientiously, 'At least, not very much. It's--it's rather a new experience for me, you see.'

A minute later Tom pulled up and sat down.

'Come behind me,' he said, 'just in case any of these brutes should spring at us before I get my little toy to work on them. I shan't shoot until they are within ten yards or so. I want to make sure of one, then they will stop and eat him if they don't run away.'

I got behind Tom and crouched down, and we watched them coming. They were now in full cry, heads down, like a pack of hounds. When within fifty yards of us, the leader raised his head and saw us. He gave a great yelp, and came scudding along, followed by his band. At twenty yards they slowed down and stopped, seeming to lose heart. Suddenly one sat down on his haunches, and his example was followed by two or three others.

As for me, my teeth were all a-chatter with terror. I wished to suggest to Tom that he should try the effect of a careful shot at one of the sitting wolves, but no words would come. I felt as though I were in the grip of a night-mare, awake to the horror of our position, and yet quite helpless. Tom suddenly spoke.

'I am going to fire,' he said. 'Don't speak or move for a minute.' He pointed his pistol, took a long aim, and pulled the trigger.

No wolf fell, but the shot produced a curious effect.

In an instant every wolf of the nine had 'dispersed' as though the pack had been scattered by some mysterious force. They fled in every direction except towards us. Tom uttered a cry of triumph. For a hundred or two yards the wolves careered as though they were mad. At a furlong's distance every wolf stopped and turned round. Not one of them uttered a sound.

'What a bad shot!' said Tom. 'Idiot that I was! I don't understand these things. Are you any good with them?'

I had found my tongue, and replied that I had practised at a mark occasionally. 'You take one more shot, and then let me try one,' I suggested.

'Good,' said Tom. 'I have been thinking. It's only about a mile to that wide crack, the ten-footer. I think I could skate as far as that with an effort. When we get near, I'll rest if necessary, and after that we will fly it. I doubt if the wolves will follow us over.'

This was an excellent idea. We started off. If either of us had hoped that the savage brutes at our heels would have been discouraged from further pursuit, we were soon disappointed, for within a minute all nine were again in full cry after us at two hundred yards' distance. For three-quarters of a mile Tom skated on in agony.

'Now we will stop, and I will fire my second shot,' he said.

Once more our nine snarling friends found discretion the better part of their valour, and stopped at a biscuit-toss from us, whining and howling and looking grim enough to frighten the most iron nerves. Perhaps Tom's hand shook a bit; at any rate, he missed again, and handed me over the revolver with an exclamation of disgust. And again the wolves retired, but not so far away this time.

We waited two or three minutes.

'Now we'll go,' said Tom, 'and this time we will reach and fly the water-jump without stopping. Let them come close to our heels till we are within fifty yards, then put on all the pace we can, and over we go. I want to see whether we can't drown one or two of the brutes; they don't look where they are going.'

We carried out this programme to the letter. At fifty yards from the fissure we put on all the pace we could command, and we flew the open water side by side, Tom clearing it beautifully in spite of the wrench it gave him to do so. Then we stopped.

Having gone slowly for the last quarter of a mile, we had allowed the wolves to gain upon us. This had excited them, and as we cleared the water we could hear them in full bay close behind us. I dare say the sound at our heels gave us wings.

The pack reached the fissure but ten yards behind us. The leader and three others realised too late that they must rise to a leap; they endeavoured to stop, but their impetus carried them over the edge and into the water; of the rest, two leaped in a half-hearted manner, being in two minds whether to stop or jump; both fell short into the water. The last three cleared the fissure, and these, of course, occupied our attention, for, too excited to remember discretion this time, they made straight for us, open-mouthed. Tom had hurriedly taken off one skate, and stood swinging it behind me, intending to make a fight of it. As for me, when the nearest wolf--looking all fangs and blazing eyes--was five yards from me, I pulled the trigger. I think I shut my eyes, but of this I am not quite certain.

To my complete astonishment, the wolf came rolling and tumbling to my feet, made an effort to rise, swayed and fell back dead. The other two turned, took the fissure at a bound, and fled away. In the water two wolves were still struggling; the rest had presumably gone under the ice while endeavouring to climb over the slippery edge. Tom snatched the pistol from me with a cheer; he put the muzzle to the ear of one of the wolves and fired, killing him on the spot. The last made an heroic effort, and succeeded in climbing out on the farther side. We pulled Tom's wolf ashore.

Then we sat, like two children, and shouted and howled for joy and triumph. We took off our skates and pocketed them, and fastening the straps around the necks of our wolves, we actually dragged them, with many stoppages, to the half-way hut. Here I left Tom, whose ankle was swollen to the size of a dumpling, and skated home as fast as I could move, realising that our 'people' might be anxious if some one did not come to tell the tale. I went on winged feet, so happy was I, and I think if a pack of five thousand wolves had fled howling at my heels, I should not have cared much.

I soon got back, and a relief party was at once sent in the ice-yacht to fetch Tom away in triumph.

AFLOAT ON THE DOGGER BANK.

A Story of Adventure on the North Sea and in China.

(Concluded from page 403.)

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Chapter XXV

'Now's our time to get the treasure,' Charlie said. 'The fighting is nearly at an end, and the sailors won't want our help now.'

'Come along, then,' Fred answered; 'and I hope that we shall do better this time than last.'

Much to their surprise they found that the gate was open.

'Chin Choo has fled,' Ping Wang declared, on seeing that the gate was unprotected, and they heard later in the day that the rascally mandarin, after making a very warlike speech to his countrymen, had sneaked out of the town, and was on his way to Peking.

As Charlie, Fred, and Ping Wang entered Chin Choo's enclosure they were more excited than ever they had been during the siege of Su-ching, or the storming of Kwang-ngan; for they knew that in a few minutes they would discover whether or not their journey to China had been a fruitless one. Several of Chin Choo's servants, their pockets and arms loaded with loot, hurried out at the back of the house as Charlie, Fred, and Ping Wang approached it. They did not interfere with the thieves, but the thought that they had, perhaps, already taken away the idol occurred to each of them. They quickened their speed, and ran up the verandah steps together.

'There is the idol!' Ping Wang exclaimed, excitedly; and Charlie and Fred saw a brass image standing in the corner of a room which opened from the verandah.

Ping Wang went down on his knees, and grasping the right forearm of the image, tugged at it. To the amazement of Charlie and Fred, he pulled the idol's arm forward from its body until it was in an almost horizontal position. Then, placing his fingers on the spot where the idol's hand had lain, he pushed to the right its crossed legs, and showed to Charlie and Fred that the brass pedestal on which the figure sat was practically a jewel-box.

'Marvellous!' Charlie muttered; but his and Fred's delight was greater still when Ping Wang took out of it a little piece of cloth, and, unrolling it, exhibited an immense ruby.

'There are at least thirty as good as this one,' Ping Wang declared, joyfully; but, as he spoke, a noise was heard in Chin Choo's enclosure.

'Shut it up quickly,' Charlie said; and just as Ping Wang had done so a middy rushed into the room, accompanied by four sailors.

'Hallo!' he exclaimed, on recognising them as friends of Williams. 'What are you doing here?'

'Oh, we captured the place some ten minutes ago,' Charlie declared, cheerfully.

'Then why don't you guard what you have captured?' the youngster asked, sharply. 'There is no one posted at the gate, and the place could have been recaptured easily.'

Having said this the lad departed with his men in search of some more exciting experience.

'He was quite right,' Fred declared. 'The Boxers might have come upon us suddenly, as he did. I will go to the gate; you two stay here and guard the image.'

Fred's period of sentry-go was a short one, for he had not been at the gate more than ten minutes when he saw Williams advancing, with a portion of his force, towards him.

'Well, have you found it?' Williams asked, after he had acknowledged Fred's salute.

'Yes,' replied Fred.

'That's very good news. I was half afraid that you had come out here on a wild-goose chase.'

Williams said nothing more on that subject just then, for he had much more important business needing his attention.

Such Boxers as had not been put out of action, and had been unable to seek safety in flight, had cast away their yellow badges, and passed themselves off as peaceful citizens. Williams knew very well that the people were not so well disposed towards the Anglo-Japanese force as they pretended, and ordered a sharp look-out to be kept. It was an anxious time, and it was not until ten o'clock at night that, satisfied he had taken every possible precaution, Williams returned to Chin Choo's house, which he had made his headquarters, for an hour or two's rest.

'I congratulate you heartily,' Williams said, when Ping Wang showed him the treasure. 'And now the best thing you three can do is to get out of the country as quickly as possible. As long as you are in China you will run great risks of being robbed. I advise you to return to Su-ching early to-morrow morning, and make your way back to England. My instructions are to hold this town until I am reinforced, but it is quite possible that the Boxers will try to recover it before the reinforcements arrive. Therefore, the sooner you quit this place the more likely you will be to get away unhurt.'

'I don't much like leaving you at a time like this,' Charlie replied; 'but I suppose we ought to. The question is, how are we to carry our treasure?'

'The best way,' Ping Wang declared, 'will be for us to divide it into three packages, and each take charge of one.'

The packing being finished, the four friends sat down to have a chat. Of course they spoke chiefly of the Boxer rising, but they discussed also the latest news from the outside world, and finally talked of home.

'Now,' Williams said, when they had chatted for about an hour, 'you had better turn in, for you must start as soon after daybreak as possible. I should advise you to draw some of those rugs together, and sleep here. That's what I'm going to do.'

The friends soon made up, on the floor, four comfortable beds. Williams was sound asleep a few minutes after lying down; but Charlie, Fred, and Ping Wang lay awake for fully an hour, so excited were they at having obtained the treasure for which they had come so far. However, they fell asleep eventually, but only, as it seemed to them, to be aroused almost immediately by Williams.

'Your breakfast is ready,' he declared, cheerfully, 'and your carriages are awaiting you. I have hired a palanquin and coolies for each of you, and some extra coolies to carry the idol, as Ping Wang wants that too.'

'I say, that will be travelling in style. How long have you been up?' Charlie said.

'I went out four hours ago, and have just returned.'

Then the palanquins were brought to the foot of the verandah stairs.

'Good-bye, and God bless you, all three!' Williams said, and shook hands heartily with his friends.

'God bless you, old fellow!' Charlie said; 'and don't forget to look us up when you return to England.'

The procession of palanquins passed out through the streets and along the road to Su-ching. The bearers were hard-working fellows, and shuffled along, half-running and half-walking, at a pace which made the distance from Kwang-ngan appear very short to the travellers. On entering Su-ching, Ping Wang directed the bearers to carry them to the mission, but, on arriving there, a Japanese officer told them that Barton and his friends had started for Tien-tsin the afternoon before.

After remaining at Kwang-ngan for about an hour Ping Wang hired fresh palanquins, and they resumed their journey. It was a very uneventful one, for the Boxers had been cleared out of that part of the country; the only exciting moment being when some Russian or Japanese sentry barred their progress. The arrival of an interpreter on the scene always resulted in the travellers being allowed to continue their journey.

On arriving at the river, they soon found a boatman to take them down to Tien-tsin, and thence they went straight to Hong-kong, where they remained four days as the guest of their former host. In Hong-kong they procured new clothes, and when they went aboard the homeward-bound steamer they felt, for the first time for many weeks, that they need not be ashamed of their appearance.

Fine weather and very agreeable fellow-passengers made the voyage to England an enjoyable one, but, nevertheless, the Pages and Ping Wang were delighted when, at last, the ship reached London. Mr. Page was waiting for his sons on the landing-stage, and was so pleased at seeing them back safe and sound that he almost forgot at first to ask them about their adventures. He was, naturally, delighted with their news.

As soon as possible the jewels were valued by a London diamond merchant, who looked at them very carefully, and, after some thought, offered a price which startled the Pages and Ping Wang. They gladly accepted the offer, and returned home in high spirits to Lincoln, where they enjoyed themselves thoroughly, in spite of being called upon several times a day to relate to various friends their adventures among the Boxers. After a week's holiday Fred went back to London to continue his medical studies, and Mr. Page then began to think what to do with Charlie.

'I have had enough trawling to last me for a life-time,' Charlie declared: so the idea of putting him into a steam-trawler company was dismissed for good.

'Let us two start business together as merchants,' Ping Wang suggested. 'We could soon work up a good connection with China, I'm certain.'

Charlie liked the suggestion, and Mr. Page, having gone into the matter carefully, the firm of Page and Wang was started, and before long promises to be a prosperous one. Ping Wang decided to become a naturalised Englishman.

Their friend, Williams, so they learnt later, was publicly thanked by the Commander-in-chief of the Allied forces in China for conspicuous bravery and valuable services rendered on three different occasions.

H. C. MOORE.

NICOLO IN VIENNA.

Viennese children have a very happy time at Christmas. Not only do they get the ordinary beautiful presents, but there is another festival for them, held at the beginning of December--the 'Nicolo.' This is, properly speaking, only a festival for good children.

Nicolo, who brings the presents, is very strict in inquiring into the behaviour of children, and, should he hear that they have not been good, he does not leave any of his gifts. Every child in Vienna is careful to hang up his stocking on the eve of the 'Nicolo,' and, on the morning of the great day, he wakes up very early to see what is in it. Good children find apples and nuts, but the naughty ones get charcoal instead of something good to eat.

In the afternoon of 'Nicolo' Day, the children get ready to receive the visit of Nicolo himself. A tap is heard at the door, and an old man, with a long white beard and a white gown, appears. He has a large sack on his back, bulging with good things--in fact, the bag is often so full that dolls and whips and whistles can be seen poking out at the top. Behind the kind Nicolo stands another gentleman, dressed in scarlet and black. He does not look either good or kind, and carries a number of birch-rods under his arm. On his back a large basket is strapped; it is made of wood instead of wicker, and is deep and large. This gentleman is the most terrible person in Austria--the much-dreaded 'Krampus.' Fearful stories are told of his dark deeds, and naughty children try to hide themselves when they see the Krampus. But the Krampus keeps behind the good Nicolo, and each child is called forward to give an account of itself.

Nicolo asks the most awkward questions, such as: 'Who stole his sister's sweets last week?' 'Who broke her brother's boat?' When all the questions are answered, the good children receive presents, but naughty boys and girls do not get anything from Nicolo; instead of a puzzle-box, a ball, a new knife, or a doll, they get a gift from the Krampus, and the Krampus only gives one kind of present--a birch-rod. The Vienna confectioners make sugar dolls like the Krampus, and fill his basket with sweets. The Krampus is sometimes made of French plums or almonds and raisins, and his photograph is seen on picture cards.

E. R.

* * * * *

Transcriber's notes:

The following errors in the original have been corrected for this version.

Page 14: overhead corrected to overheard

Page 55: 'I shall drive the youngster back to Castlemore.' Final quote misprinted in original.

Page 91: "Inez hung the changed to '"Inez hung the

Page 102: that Patch changed to than Patch

Page 103: at abont half-past five changed to at about half-past five

Page 131: solitude and silence. Period was missing in original

Page 146: Hats! hats! for those who want them,; extra comma removed

Page 178: blistered them very much, One changed to blistered them very much. One

Page 179: rubbed over the suface changed to rubbed over the surface

Page 183: anything but Mr Turton.' missing period after Mr added

Page 211: refining, the raw changed to refining the raw

Page 214: send in to the authorities changed to send it to the authorities

Page 219: 'You looked about you, then? changed to 'You looked about you, then?'

Page 222: somewhat like a flower. Missing period added

clever way in which the trap is made. Missing period added

keeps it always open. Missing period added

Page 231: wants me to to have my leg cut off, changed to wants me to have my leg cut off,

slopes of the mounttains changed to slopes of the mountains

Page 238: miles away an the changed to miles away on the

Page 246: fond of pacing np changed to fond of pacing up

Page 247: maze and rice fields changed to maize and rice fields

Page 250: beleagured city changed to beleaguered city

Page 275: 'Don't shoot. changed to 'Don't shoot.'

Page 277: Charlie exclaimed to Ping Wing changed to Charlie exclaimed to Ping Wang

Page 278: being seen by them changed to being seen by him

Page 286: "first class," Fred changed to "first class,"' Fred

Page 306: pigs every day, changed to pigs every day.

nest full of fledgings changed to nest full of fledglings

Page 310: do your changed to do you

Page 314: no loiterers here! changed to no loiterers here!'

Page 319: 'isn't it a changed to 'Isn't it a

Page 342: by a moss-grown wall. changed to by a moss-grown wall.'

Page 343: run in the direction changed to ran in the direction

Page 347: hostile to foreigners. changed to hostile to foreigners.'

Page 364: 'violin-beetle changed to 'violin-beetle'

Page 395: aid of a balloon changed to aid of a balloon.

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