lun, and
lun fast alleegether."

At that moment there was a loud shouting behind, then a yell, and,
turning my head, I saw that the mandarin's men had their great blades
out, and were leading the men after us, shouting to excite themselves
and the little mob.

"Now lun!" cried Ching. "I showee way."

"No!" shouted Barkins. "Draw swords and retreat slowly."

We whipped out our weapons and turned to face the enemy, knowing full
well that they would sweep over us at the first rush, while a feeling of
rage ran through me, as in my despairing fit I determined to make the
big fellow opposite to me feel one dig of English steel before he cut me
down.

Then they were upon us with a rush, and I saw Ching dart in front and
cleverly snatch one of the clumsy swords from the nearest man. The next
moment he had whirled it up with both hands, when--

_Boom_--_Crash_!

There was the report of a heavy gun, whose concussion made the wooden
houses on each side jar and quiver as it literally ran up the narrow
street, and, to our astonishment, we saw the little mob turn on the
instant and begin to run, showing us, instead of their fierce savage
faces, so many black pigtails; the mandarin's men, though, last.

"Hooray!" we yelled after them, and they ran the faster.

"Now, velly quick," panted Ching. "Come back again soon."

We uttered another shout, and hurried along the lane to the principal
street, turned at right angles, and began to hurry along pretty rapidly
now, Ching marching beside us with the big sword over his shoulder.

But the scare was only temporary, the tremendous report was not
repeated, and before a minute had elapsed, our guide, who kept glancing
back, cried--

"Now, lun velly fast. Come along catchee catchee, and no big gun go
shoot this time."

He was quite right, and we took to our heels, with the yelling mob close
at hand, and so many people in front, that we felt certain of being run
down long before we could reach the waterside.

"And no chance for us when we do," muttered Barkins from close behind
me. "Oh, if a couple of dozen of our lads were only here! Why didn't
they send 'em?" he panted, "instead of firing as a signal for us to go
back on board."

CHAPTER THREE.

CUTTING IT CLOSE.

My messmate uttered these words close to my ears in a despairing tone as
we dashed on, and now I saw Ching strike to his right, while I made a
cut or two at my left, as men started from the sides and