from my hip, the others followed suit, and a howl of canine rage
answered us. We had rolled over a wolfish dog searching for dead
bodies. Before we had time to realise much, the savage animal was up
again and rushing at us--to escape through the gate. As it passed, we
clubbed and bayonetted him with neatness, for we have now some art in
close-quarter work, and with a last howl the animal's life flickered
out. Dogs are highly dangerous, as we knew to our cost; they give the
alarm in a way which no living man, even in these civilised days, can
fail to understand. We waited in some anguish to see whether this
scuffle had been heard; we were a quarter of a mile away from our own
lines by the circuitous route we had been forced to take, and if we
were ambuscaded, no one would probably go back to tell the tale....

Still not a sound, not a word. A little encouraged, we crept more
valiantly into the Austrian Legation, and stood amazed at the
spectacle. Rank-growing weeds covered the ground two or three feet
high; all the houses and residences had been gutted by fire,
everything combustible burned, leaving a terrible litter. But the
brickwork and stonework stood almost intact, and the tall Corinthian
pillars with which it had been the architect's fancy to adorn this
mission of His Most Catholic Majesty, stood up white and chaste in all
this scene of devastation and ruin; they might have dated from
centuries ago. Broken weapons, thousands more of brass cartridges, and
sometimes even a soldier's bloodstained tunic could be seen among the
weeds. This must have been the site of another camp of Chinese
soldiery. Abandoned straw matting showed where rough huts had once
been built line upon line. But all these hosts had flown.

We now held a council of war. What should we do--push on or go back?
It seemed highly dangerous, but suddenly making up my mind, I cut
short all deliberations and ordered an advance. To feel for the enemy,
to get in touch with the enemy at all costs, and to scratch him if
possible, is evidently the scout's duty, even when the scout is but a
siege amateur, with broken trousers, a mud-stained shirt and a
battered rifle. But we must make ourselves secure. We bolted the big
gates behind us; we sweatily piled up sufficient bricks to make its
opening a matter of minutes for an enemy's hand, and then we once
again trotted forward. This time we were irrevocably inside the
Legation, and separated, perhaps, for good and