regular
showers now. Close by the sailors they stop short, and are buried in
the flooded soil of the rice-fields, accompanied by a faint splash, like
hail falling sharp and swift in a puddle of water.

The marines looked at one another as if it was all a piece of odd fun,
and said:

"Only John Chinaman! pish!"

To the sailors, Annamites, Tonquinese, or "Black Flags" are all of the
same Chinese family. It is difficult to show their contempt and mocking
rancour, as well as eagerness for "bowling over the beggars," when they
speak of "the Chinese."

Two or three bullets are still flying about, more closely grazing; they
can be seen bouncing like grasshoppers in the green. The slight shower
of lead did not last long.

Perfect silence returns to the broad verdant plain, and nowhere can
anything be seen moving. The same six are still there, standing on the
watch, scenting the breeze, and trying to discover whence the volley
came. Surely from over yonder, by that clump of bamboos, which looks
like an island of feathers in the plain; behind it several pointed roofs
appear half hidden. So they all made for it, their feet slipping or
sinking into the soaked soil. Sylvestre runs foremost, on his longer,
more nimble legs.

No more buzz of bullets; they might have thought they were dreaming.

As in all the countries of the world, some features are the same; the
cloudy gray skies and the fresh tints of fields in spring-time, for
example; one could imagine this upon French meadows, and these young
fellows, running merrily over them, playing a very different sport from
this game of death.

But as they approach, the bamboos show the exotic delicacy of their
foliage, and the village roofs grow sharper in the singularity of their
curves, and yellow men hidden behind advance to reconnoitre; their flat
faces are contracted by fear and spitefulness. Then suddenly they rush
out screaming, and deploy into a long line, trembling, but decided and
dangerous.

"The Chinese!" shout the sailors again, with their same brave smile.

But this time they find that there are a good many--too many; and one of
them turning round perceives other Chinese coming from behind, springing
up from the long tall grass.

At this moment, young Sylvestre came out grand; his old granny would
have been proud to see him such a warrior. Since the last few days he
had altered. His face was bronzed, and his voice strengthened. He was in
his own element here.