Two days later Gilbert and Ben were seated in their tent talking about the meeting with Larry when one of the guards came in and saluted.

“A messenger to see Captain Russell and Captain Pennington,” said the guard.

“Show him in,” returned Ben, briefly, thinking it was a simple message about camp duties.  He was rather surprised when a Chinaman entered, bowing low as he did so.

“Dis Clabtain Lussell?” asked the newcomer.

“That is my name.”

“Dis Clabtain Plennington?”

“Yes,” answered Gilbert.

“Sailor man send Chung Wow,” went on the Chinaman.  “Sailor man want see bloth.”  He pointed to the two young captains.  “Sailor man say he blother you.”  And now he pointed at Ben alone.

“Said he was my brother?” cried the young captain.

The messenger nodded.  “Name allée same Larry Lussell.”

“Gracious me!” ejaculated Ben.  “Gilbert, what can this mean?  I thought Larry sailed away on that warship.”

“So did I. But she may be back in port.”

“Sailor man hurt.”  The Chinaman pointed to his side.  “Sick - he shot - say you clome to-night.”

“Sick? shot?” repeated Ben, and a cold chill went down his backbone.  “That is the worst yet.  Where is he?”

“Big walk down by the sea.  Chung Wow show.  But must pay - Chung Wow poor people.”

“Oh, I’ll pay you,” answered Ben, hurriedly.  “Gilbert, do you think I can get away?”

“Sailor man say bloth clome,” put in the messenger.

“Something is wrong, that is certain,” came from Gilbert.  He eyed the Chinaman closely.  “There is no mistake about this?”

At this Chung Wow shrugged his lean shoulders and looked blank.

“No see mistakee.  See sailor mans.”

“I guess he is all right,” put in Ben.  “Something has happened to poor Larry.  I wonder if I can get away at once?”

“Let us see the major about this.”

Ben hurried off and caught Major Okopa in his own tent.  As the command was not to move until noon of the next day both readily obtained permission to absent themselves until that time.

“But be careful,” said the major.  “This may be some Chinese trick.”

“We’ll be on our guard,” answered Ben.

The Chinese messenger had come in on foot.  He said he was hungry and was given something to eat.  Then the three set off, the messenger carrying a knapsack filled with rations, and each of the young captains carrying his sword and his pistol.  They tried to learn from Chung Wow how far they would have to travel, but the Chinaman either could not or would not inform them.

“Perhaps it might have been as well to have taken a detachment of one company along,” suggested Gilbert.  “I must say, I don’t like the looks of this.”  They were now a good mile away from camp, and in a location that appeared lonely enough.

“Well, we are moving down to the seacoast,” returned Ben.  He was taking careful note of the direction they were pursuing.

After that they journeyed along for a good two hours without saying much.  They stepped along briskly, for Ben wanted to learn just what had happened to his brother.  For all he knew to the contrary, Larry might be mortally wounded.

Presently they came to a spot in the road where there were a number of dense trees.  Chung Wow began to cough loudly.

“What’s the matter?” demanded Gilbert.  For some reason he did not trust the Chinaman.

“Slomthing fly in float,” was the answer, and Chung Wow coughed again.  Then he walked on, and they came behind him.  But Gilbert drew his pistol and motioned for Ben to do the same.

“I may be mistaken, but we may be walking into a trap,” he whispered.

“Why, Gilbert, I don’t - ” began Ben, when without warning a heavy object dropped upon his head from the limb of one of the trees and bore him to the ground.  Another object dropped on Gilbert, but he squirmed from under, - to find himself confronted by several Chunchuses.  A cry went up, and a crashing was heard in the bushes back of the trees.

“A trick, Ben, just as I suspected!” ejaculated the young Southerner, and he discharged his pistol point-blank at the Chinese bandit in front of him.  This done he made a leap to one side, hurling over Chung Wow as he did so, and darted forward into some bushes.  A shot was aimed at him, but did no injury, and he kept on, running as hard as he could.

In the meantime Ben did his best to get up.  But one man was on his shoulders and another had him by the legs, so to move was next to impossible.  Then, as he continued to struggle, he received a heavy kick from a wooden shoe which stretched him out like a log.

“He is out of the fight now,” said one of the Chunchuses, as he bent over Ben.  “Go after the other.  Do not let him escape if you can help it.  Americans are worth a good deal to us in these days!”

Three of the brigands remained to guard Ben and the others made after Gilbert.  But they could not catch the young Southerner, and after a long chase they came back.

“He has gone back to his camp,” said one of the Chunchuses to his chief.  “He will have his friends about our ears very shortly.”

As soon as this news was received, Ben’s hands and feet were bound, and four of the Chinamen caught him up as if he were a dead animal and hoisted him on their shoulders.  Off they set at a dog-trot, with the remaining brigands around them.

It was the jogging over the rough mountainous road which finally brought the young captain to his senses.  At first he did not realize that he was on the move.

“Gilbert!” he called faintly.  “Gilbert!”

Nobody answered him, and now he essayed to sit up.  He could not budge and consequently began to struggle.

“Be still!” cried one of the Chunchuses, in Chinese.

“Where am I?  What are you doing to me?” queried Ben.

For answer he received a good shaking and was then dumped on the ground.  His feet were liberated, and the chief of the Chinese brigands ordered him to move along, pointing the end of his sword at the prisoner as he did so.

“Where is my friend?” asked Ben.

“He is dead,” said the chief, laconically.

“Dead!” burst out the young captain.  His heart seemed to become like a lump of lead.  Gilbert, his own true chum, dead!  It was too horrible to believe.

“Yes, and you will be unless you walk on,” added the chief of the Chunchuses.

There was no help for it, and, bruised and bleeding, the young captain took up the march, with his enemies on all sides of him.  The gait was a rapid one, and before they came to a halt once more he was all but exhausted.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked.

“Wait and see.”  The chief of the Chunchuses grinned wickedly.  “I shall have to trouble you for your valuables,” he went on, in his native tongue, and without further ado stripped Ben of his possessions, including his watch, money, ring, and sword.

There was no use protesting, and therefore the young captain did not attempt it.  He was marched along a marshy path, and presently came in sight of the ocean and a small bay, where two sailing ships and a small steamer lay at anchor.

A shrill whistle sounded out, and this was answered by somebody on the steamer.  Then a small boat put in to shore, carrying four sailors and an officer.  As soon as the officer landed, he was called aside by the chief of the Chunchuses, and a conference lasting several minutes followed.

“It shall be as you say, Ching Fee,” said the officer, in Russian.  “It is too bad you did not get the other, too.  I know Ivan Snokoff, and Captain Barusky too, and there will be money in this.  Yes, I’ll take him on board at once.  You had better watch out that the soldiers do not get after you.”

“Trust Ching Fee to take care of himself,” said the chief of the Chunchuses.

With scant ceremony Ben was conducted to the small boat and told to get in.  He asked where they were going to take him, but could get no satisfaction.  As soon as the steamer was reached, he was conducted to an empty stateroom and locked in.

“This is the worst yet!” he muttered, as he sat down.  “I suppose they intend to carry me miles and miles away.  Poor Gilbert!  I never thought he would be killed in such a fashion as this!  What cutthroats these Chinese brigands are!  It’s a wonder they didn’t kill me too!  Can that story about Larry be true?”

There was a little water in the stateroom, and as his hands had been released, Ben bathed his wounds and bound them up as best he could.  He heard the steamer move away from the shore, and soon the steady pounding of the engines proved that she was forging ahead at her best rate of speed.

He was a prisoner of the enemy, and what they were going to do with him was a question still to be answered.