After firing on the Chinese brigands as already described, Gilbert plunged into the brushwood which was not over half a dozen yards distant.  He heard the shots discharged at him in return, but fortunately every one went wide of its mark.

Once in the brushwood he did not stop, but continued on his way for several rods.  Then he paused, wondering if Ben was anywhere in the vicinity.

“I hope they didn’t kill him,” he murmured.  “What a trap that was, and how easily we walked into it!”

He waited and listened, but nobody came near him.  Then, with caution, he pushed ahead, until he gained once more the road leading back to the temporary camp occupied by the powder train and the detachment guarding it.  Following this, he ran on at full speed until the welcome camp-fires greeted him.

“Major Okopa, we have been attacked by Chunchuses!” he exclaimed, as he rushed up to the officer’s quarters.  And in a brief manner he explained the situation so far as he knew it.

The Japanese major had taken a strong liking to Gilbert and Ben, and he lost no time in ordering out a company to round up the Chinese brigands if they could be located.  It was Gilbert’s own command and he was given permission to remain out the whole night and the next day if necessary.

The young Southerner went at the task with vigor, for he realized that every moment was precious.  He explained the situation to his men, and they set off at double-quick to where the attack had been made.

As was to be expected, the spot was deserted.  By torchlight they saw the evidences of the struggle which had taken place.  In one spot was a pool of blood, left by the brigand whom Gilbert had shot in the shoulder.

“They went off in this direction,” said one of the soldiers, who was good at tracing footsteps.  He pointed to a side road, and along this they ran, keeping eyes and ears on the alert, so as to avoid anything in the nature of a surprise.

Two hours later the company found itself on the seashore.  But Chunchuses and vessels were gone and to where it was impossible to find out.  But on the beach Gilbert picked up an empty pocketbook which he knew was Ben’s property.

“They brought him here most likely,” he said.  “See, here are the marks of a rowboat, and of many feet.  They have gone off on the water.”

“Then the hunt is at a standstill,” returned his second in command.

The young captain was unwilling to believe this, and the remainder of the night, and the next forenoon, were spent in an eager search after the enemy.  But it was useless; and at last Gilbert, sick at heart, ordered his men to return to the camp.

On the following day the powder train moved onward once more.  The first lieutenant of Ben’s company took command of the body, and Ben was marked “missing” on the roll.

“It is certainly too bad, and I sympathize with you, Captain Pennington,” said Major Okopa.  “Captain Russell is a fine fellow.”

“It takes all the vigor out of me,” replied Gilbert.  “Ben and I were like two brothers.”

But Gilbert was given no time in which to grieve over Ben’s disappearance.  Two days later, the powder train was attacked by a detachment of the Russians, who seemed to spring out of the very ground.  One of the wagons loaded with powder was blown to atoms, killing two horses and three soldiers.

“Banzai!” cried the Japanese, and when the order was given they attacked the enemy with vigor.  It was a hot fight, lasting half an hour, and the Russians were driven among some high hills, backed up by several mountains.

As the powder train had to go through one of the mountain passes so close at hand, the soldiers were sent ahead, to clear the way of all Russians that might appear.  This was dangerous work, for the enemy had the advantage of the higher position.  But the Japanese were undaunted, and rushed up one slope after another with a vigor and animation that was surprising.

“Can’t hold them back, when once they get started,” said Gilbert, to the major.  “They are like our Southern bloodhounds, when once they strike the scent.”

“And that is the way to win victory,” answered Major Okopa.

Not long after this Gilbert found himself at the foot of a steep hill with his company.  At the top of the hill were a number of great bowlders and behind these some of the Russians were in hiding, sending down a spiteful fire whenever the opportunity presented itself.

“We must dislodge those fellows,” said Major Okopa.  “It is very dangerous work.  Do you think you can accomplish it, Captain Pennington?”

“I can try,” answered Gilbert, modestly, and ordered his company forward.  He turned them slightly to the left, for here a fringe of thin brushwood offered a shelter that was not great, but much better than none.

“Major Okopa expects us to take this hill,” he said, in the best Japanese he could muster.  “Let us do our best!”

“Banzai!” came the rallying cry from the men, and up the slope they rushed, with Gilbert at their side.  Crack! crack! went the rifles of the Russians, and then, without warning, several shells were sent up.  One man of Gilbert’s company was killed and two wounded, but they did not waver.  Passing the brushwood, they ran out boldly on the slope above them.

Many of the rocks at the top of the hill were loose, and as the Japanese came closer, the enemy began to send them down in a shower which was highly dangerous to those below.

“Beware of the stones!” cried Gilbert.

He had hardly spoken when he saw that he would have to look after his own safety.  The Russians were working over a rock that weighed several hundreds of pounds.

All at once the mass broke loose.  There was a yell of delight from above, and then the big bowlder came rolling straight for Gilbert.  Had it touched him he must surely have been crushed to death.

But the young Southerner was as cool as he was quick.  Pausing to make certain which way the big stone was coming down, he made a quick leap in the opposite direction.  Then the bowlder went bounding past him, to crash into some small trees at the bottom of the hill.

“Are you hurt, captain?” asked his lieutenant.

“No,” answered Gilbert.  Then he leaped to the front once more.  “Come!” he cried. “Banzai! Forward for the Mikado!” And on the whole company went as before, firing rapidly as they did so.  The Russians clung to the hilltop a few minutes longer, and then, as the first of the Japanese gained a footing there, they broke and fled in wild disorder down the other side of the hill, and into the woods to the northward.  The Japanese pursued them for two hours but could not catch them, and at last the chase was abandoned.  In this skirmish, called the battle of Po-yang-ling, the Japanese lost in killed and wounded four men, and the Russians seven.  Three of the Czar’s soldiers were also taken prisoners.

After that the powder train had no more difficulty, and four days later reached its destination, which was the village of Fanshen, where the Japanese had established something of a base of supplies for that portion of the army which was moving southward to join in the siege of Port Arthur.  At Fanshen, Major Okopa’s command received orders to go into camp instead of returning to the vicinity of Liao-Yang.

“This looks to me as if we were to be transferred to the army in the south,” said the major, after communicating the news to Gilbert.

“Well, I shouldn’t mind helping to take Port Arthur,” returned the young Southerner.  “If you will remember, it was my treatment by the Russians at that place which caused me to take up arms against them.”

“So you said before, Captain Pennington.  But do not imagine that the taking of Port Arthur will be easy.  The Russians have fortified it in every possible manner.”

“Yes, - they were doing that before I came away from there.”

“For months they have been strengthening their fortifications, and getting in ammunition and supplies in secret.  Their chain of forts extend, so I have been told, for twenty miles and more outside of the city, and being in a mountainous country, they will be hard to reduce.”

“Don’t you think we can capture the place?” demanded Gilbert.

“Capture it?  Most assuredly, captain.  But it will mean a great destruction of life,” returned Major Okopa, gravely.

What the major said about the Russians fortifying Port Arthur was true.  Lieutenant-General Stoessel, the Russian commander at that place, had under him sixty thousand men, the very flower of the Russian army.  On the side of the sea the town was fortified at a dozen points, only three of which had been thus far captured under the Japanese army led by General Nogi.  To the northward and the westward were some twenty defenses, set among the mountains where they were next to impossible to reach.

In a work of this kind, it is impossible to relate in detail all of the many battles fought over the possession of Port Arthur.  The first assault was made in February by Admiral Togo’s fleet, and the naval conflict was kept up for almost three months after that.  In the meantime a Japanese army under General Oku landed at Pitsewo, and after several battles at Kinchow and Nanshan Hill, drove the Russians back to their mountain defenses and took possession of the railroad running to Liao-Yang and Mukden.  Thus Port Arthur was cut off from almost all communication with the outside world.