s lay in a shapeless heap. And with
ugly kicks my men ground the ruin into yet smaller pieces. Somehow it
made me wince. It was a brutal sight; to treat gods, even if they be
false, in this wise....

As I looked and wondered, scarcely daring to interfere, the Shantung
man had pushed his face, after the native manner, close into that of
his enemy and was muttering taunts at him, which were hissed like the
fury of a snake in anger. This could not last--my man was carrying it
too far. It was so. With a cry his victim suddenly closed on him,
seized him insanely by the throat and hair, tried to tear him to the
ground. I remember I had just a vision of those brown wrestling bodies
half-bared by the fury of their clutches, and I could hear the quickly
drawn pants which came at a supreme moment, when there was a sharp
report, which sounded a little muffled, a piece of plaster flew out of
the wall behind the two, and some biting smoke bit one's nostrils.
Before I realised what had been done, the giant Boxer was staggering
back; then he tottered and fell on his knees, talking strangely to
himself, with his voice sliding up and down as if it now refused
control. Some blood welled up to his lips and trickled out; he shook a
bit, and then he crashed finally down. There he lay among the ruins of
his faith--dead, stone-dead, killed outright. The Shantung man stood
over him with a smoking revolver in his hand. I remembered then that
he had never taken his hand from the weapon. He had been waiting for
this--it was an old score, properly paid....

I had had enough, however, of this mode of settling up under cover of
my protection, and angrily I intimated that if there was any more
shooting I should draw too, and pistol every man. I was proceeding to
add to these remarks, and was even becoming eloquent as my righteous
feelings welled up, when a thunder of blows suddenly resounded on the
outer gates, and made me realise with a start that this was no place
for abstract morality. Strayed so far from safety, we had taken our
lives into our own hands; at any moment we might have to fight once
more desperately against superior numbers. Perhaps in the end we would
totter over in the same way as the unfortunate who had strayed across
our path.... Indeed, it was no time for morality....

The thunder on the gates continued, and then with a crash they came
open suddenly, and a party of French soldiers, with fixed bayonets and
their uniforms in gr