Under the Mikado's flag

One of the Korean huts was close to some bushes beside the trail, and the young captain had but little difficulty in approaching it without laying himself liable to being seen by any others of the enemy who might be near at hand.

This hut contained two horses, and he rightfully surmised by this that two more Cossacks must be in that vicinity.

Crawling between that hut and the next, he heard a murmur of voices. It came from the last hut of the row. The Cossacks were talking in their own dialect, and what was being said the young American could not make out.

Feeling the second hut must be vacant, Gilbert slipped into this. He had his pistol in his hand, and his sword where he could bring it into play at a moment’s notice.

The murmur of voices now came clearer, and presently Gilbert heard another voice. Much to his amazement this last voice was speaking in English!

“I don’t understand such jargon,” was what was said. “Can’t you talk United States?”

“Ben Russell, as sure as fate,” said Gilbert to himself. “Now how in creation did he get here?”

There could be but one answer to this question—Ben had been captured, just as he had before feared. More than likely the men of his detachment were also prisoners, or else shot down.

“I must save Ben, no matter at what cost,” Gilbert told himself. The idea of deserting his old chum never once entered his head.

Watching his opportunity, the young captain left the hut he had entered, and slipped to the rear of that in which were the Cossacks and their prisoner. Gazing through a slit Gilbert saw Ben, with his hands tied behind him, sitting on a small bench, while before him, with sabers drawn, stood two burly cavalrymen. Their faces were dark and forbidding, and they looked as if they considered that the American had no rights which they were bound to respect. As a matter of fact, it enraged them greatly to learn that an American would dare throw in his fortunes with those fighting under the Mikado’s flag.

From where he stood, Gilbert could have fired point-blank at the Cossacks and likely killed the pair on the spot. But he had no desire to shed blood in such a reckless fashion, even though his chum was a prisoner. He determined to watch for a favorable opportunity when he might dash in and give Ben his freedom.

The chance was not long in coming. Having talked for a minute between themselves, one of the Cossacks stepped out of the hut, and hurried to his horse. Soon he was off, going in the same direction the first cavalryman had taken.

Without hesitation, Gilbert now stepped to the front of the hut. He covered the Cossack inside with his pistol.

“Gilbert!” ejaculated Ben, in glad surprise. “Well, this is lucky, to say the least.”

At these words, and at the shadow behind him, the Cossack swung around quickly. When he saw the young captain and the gleaming barrel of the pistol, his face fell and he muttered a loud exclamation which Gilbert did not understand.

“Throw up your hands!” said the young American, in Russian.

The hands went up slowly, one still holding the saber, which the Cossack was itching to use.

“Drop that saber!” was Gilbert’s next order. “Drop it at once!”

Again the cavalryman hesitated. But he did not like the look in the young American’s eye, and with a clatter the blade fell to the floor of the hut.

The young captain next compelled the Cossack to march into a corner, facing the angle. Then, as Ben backed up to him, Gilbert cut the cord which bound his hands together.

“Good for you Gilbert,” cried Ben, as he picked up the saber. “You certainly got here in the nick of time. Are your men outside?”

At this Gilbert shook his head. “I’m alone,” he said. “But I shouldn’t like to have that fellow know it.”

“What became of your men?”

“They started to return to the main body of our command. What of yours?”

“We fell in with some of the Cossacks and had a pretty warm fight for a few minutes. Then most of my men fled. I was surrounded and captured, and three of the Cossacks brought me here. I think they take me for a spy.”

No time was lost after this in tying the hands of the Cossack in the corner. Then Gilbert asked the fellow a number of questions in Russian, but got little satisfaction.

“Why not search him?” suggested Ben, and this was done. The prisoner objected roundly, but it was of no avail. In an inner pocket was found a map of the mountains and trails, and some sort of an order written in Russia.

“I believe this chap is a spy!” cried Gilbert. “We must take him back to the Japanese camp by all means.”

“Easy enough to say, Gilbert. But you must remember that these hills are full of the enemy.”

“We must watch our chances.”

Both deemed it unsafe to remain at the huts, and a little later they moved off, taking the cavalryman’s horse with them.

Gilbert and Ben took turns in riding, the one on foot keeping watch on the Cossack so that he might not attempt to run away.

For once fortune favored them, for scarcely had they covered a mile when they came to a much broader trail. At a distance they heard voices, and soon came in sight of some of their own pack train, while ahead was Major Okopa’s command, hurrying along on the double-quick, to get out of the reach of the Cossacks.

“Is it possible!” exclaimed the major when he caught sight of the two Americans. “Where have you been, and how does it happen that you are together?”

“It’s a long story, major,” answered Gilbert. “See, we have a prisoner. We think he is a spy. We took these from him.” And the young captain showed the map and paper.

The Japanese major was keenly interested, and took possession of the documents. The Cossack was turned over to a detail, and the solders were cautioned to watch him closely, which they did.

Gilbert soon found that his men under Satmo had rejoined the main body without mishap, and that the runaway horses had been brought in after a most exciting chase by the hostlers and coolies. Of Ben’s detachment all but one man was on hand. The missing man came into camp twenty-four hours later.

Major Okopa had now learned all that he had set out to ascertain and, as a consequence, no time was lost in falling back to where the main body of the Japanese army lay.

His trying experience at the cliff, and afterward, had worn Gilbert out, and he was glad enough to rest for several days after the regular camp was reached. During that time the Cossack brought in was examined. Fortunately for him, it could not be proved that he was spy—in which case he would have been shot—so he was placed among the ordinary prisoners, much to his satisfaction. Gilbert was congratulated on securing the man so cleverly and also on having aided Ben to escape.

Owing to the spring thaws the roads were now all but impassable, and before the Japanese army as a whole could move forward towards the Yalu a large portion of the roadbed had to be repaired. For the heavy artillery logs had to be laid, and day after day the engineering corps were kept busy, bringing in logs from the surrounding forests.

The middle of March found our friends located at An-ju, on the highway leading to Chong-ju. More troops were coming to the front rapidly, and it was rumored that the Russians were massing at the last-named point. On the 28th there was a small engagement, which resulted in a score being killed or wounded, on either side. As the Japanese pushed more troops to the front the Russians retired to Wiju and other points close to the southern bank of the Yalu. But even these points could not be held by them, and then they began to mass on the northern bank of the river, where they determined to offer a stubborn resistance to all further Japanese progress.

“This is going to be a war on a large scale after all,” observed Gilbert, as he watched some new regiments coming in. “We must have forty or fifty thousand men here already.”

“The Japanese realize that they have no small nation to deal with,” answered another officer, who stood near. “They know that Russia can put as large an army in the field as any country in the world.”

“There is going to be a hard fight when it comes to crossing the Yalu,” put in Ben. “I’ll wager the Russians will contest every inch of the way,” and in that surmise he was correct.

After the enemy had been driven to the northern bank of the stream, General Kuroki planted his left flank near the mouth of the Yalu, and spread out his right to a distance of almost twenty-five miles up the stream. Heavy artillery was brought up and located where it was thought it could do the most good (or rather, the most damage), and many advantageous positions were strongly fortified. In addition materials for pontoon bridges were also carried forward, so that at the proper moment there would be no delay in getting across the Yalu—all providing the Russians would permit such a move.

While such work was going forward on the Japanese side the enemy was equally busy, hurrying soldiers to the scene, and bringing up guns just as heavy as their opponents. It is estimated that the Russians had about thirty thousand men in the vicinity of the Yalu. A large force was stationed at Antung and another at Yung-tien, and troops were also located as far to the northeast as Kuantien. The Korean road and gate were particularly well guarded, and spies were sent out constantly to inform the Russian commanders when an attack might be expected. But the Japanese, well known for their secrecy, kept their plans to themselves, so that, finally, the opening of the great battle of the Yalu came to the Russians largely in the nature of a surprise.