e 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