Under the Mikado's flag

Gilbert read Ben Russell’s letter with keen interest. The contents surprised him, just as his chum had thought they would, and he drew a long sigh of uncertainty as he laid the epistle down.

“Ben and Larry!” he murmured. “Yes, I’ll be more than glad to meet them both, but if the old Columbia gets into trouble with her cargo, what will become of them?” And then he fell to wondering if Ben was still wearing his uniform as a captain of the volunteers, or if he had donned civilian’s costume. The Russians would certainty not care for an American officer, in uniform, among them.

The following afternoon took the young American to an outlying quarter of the city. Here were located a number of humble houses occupied largely by Chinese and Japanese, who worked along the wharves and at the dry dock.

Gilbert wanted to find a Japanese stevedore named Jiru Siko, for he imagined that this individual knew something about Ivan Snokoff which was, perhaps, unknown to Nicholas Vanskynov. He knew that Siko lived at the end of the narrow and dirty street, with his wife and half a dozen children.

As he approached the spot he noticed that something unusual was taking place. A motley crowd of Japanese, Chinese, and Russians had collected near the house, and one Russian, who was armed with a stout club, was talking loudly and commandingly.

“Out of the house at once, you dirty dog of a Nippon!” came from the Russian. “Out of the house, I say. Your being there defiles the very walls.”

“I have paid the rent,” answered Jiru Siko, who was a small man, with a hand that had been hurt lately by having a box fall upon it. “Why cannot I remain?”

“Because the dirty sons of Nippon must leave this place,” shouted the Russian. “You are to go, and all the others are to go, too!”

“And what of my rent money? Nine rubles, in clean money——”

“The rubles shall go for repairs, after you have left the house. Now out with you.”

“But my wife is not well. And my children——”

“No time have I to listen to woeful tales,” stormed the Russian, who was merely a rent gatherer, and who had been ordered by his rich master to clear out all the Japanese in the street. “Take your wife and children where you will, only leave here, and at once.”

“It is unjust,” stammered Jiru Siko.

“Yes, it is unjust!” came in a shout from half a dozen present.

“Ha, so you defy me!” shouted the Russian, in a rage. “Shall I bring the soldiery here to make you prisoners?”

At the mention of the soldiery the crowd fell back and several Japanese and Chinese slunk out of sight. Evidently they had had a taste of Russian law before and wanted no more or it.

Scarcely knowing what to do, for his wife was sick and his youngest child was but a babe four months old, Jiru Siko fell back to the doorway of his house and blocked the entrance.

“Come out of that!” continued the Russian. And then, without warning, he aimed a blow with his club at the Japanese’s head.

But the blow did not land as intended, for leaping forward, Gilbert knocked the Russian rent gatherer’s arm aside.

“For shame,” said the young American. “What right have you to attack this man in this manner?”

Astonished to have his actions interfered with, the Russian wheeled around and confronted Gilbert. He had expected to behold another Japanese, or a Chinese, and when he saw an American he faltered a little.

“I want him to get out of this house,” he growled.

“Ah, Master Pennington!” cried Jiru Siko joyfully. “You come best time. You help poor Jiru Siko. No can move—no money move—no move wife sick—no move little baby—pay rent no move,” and he chattered away for fully a minute, doing his best to explain the situation, which was to the effect that he had paid rent for nearly a month longer and that his wife was sick and must not be thrown out on the street, along with the baby and the other children.

“If this man has paid his rent, I do not see how you can put him out,” said Gilbert sternly, to the Russian. “It is not lawful, and you know it.”

“The Japanese must go.”

“Then give him back his rent money.”

“I have it not.”

“Then go and get it. To take his money and then throw him out would be robbery, and you know it.”

A wordy war followed, in which half a dozen present participated. Supported by Gilbert, Jiru Siko refused to budge unless his rent money was returned, and at last the rent gatherer brought out his purse and counted out the amount. Then several others also demanded their money and it was given to them, although grudgingly. From one the rent gatherer asked who Gilbert was, and when he was told he turned to the young American.

“You have caused me great trouble,” said he savagely. “I shall take good care that you are reported. You are no friend to Russia.”

“You may do as you please,” answered Gilbert simply. Nevertheless, the rent gatherer’s words disturbed him not a little.

Jiru Siko was overjoyed to get back his money and at once made preparations to leave the house. From him Gilbert gathered that all of the Japanese were expected to leave Port Arthur without delay. That the Russians now expected war there could be no doubt.

The Japanese listened attentively to what the young American had to say about Ivan Snokoff. He could not tell what had become of the fellow, but he was as sure as Nicholas Vanskynov had been that Snokoff and Captain Barusky had been partners. He also said that Barusky was the black sheep of his family, and that the other rich members had cast him off.

“Jiru Siko no forget what Master Pennington do for ’im,” said the Japanese, on parting. “Pay back sometime, maybe.”

“If war comes, what will you do, Siko?”

“Fight—just the same fight in China when Master Pennington fight.”

“Were you in China at that time?” cried Gilbert, with interest.

“Yes—fight Tien-Tsin and Pekin—stay by railroad long time.”

“What about your family?”

“Take family to Japan first—all family Nagasaki—family take good care wife an’ babies—gran’fadder, gran’mudder, all Nagasaki.”

“Well, I hope this war cloud blows over and you don’t have to fight,” said Gilbert; and then the two parted.

Gilbert had expected to consult with Mr. Chase, but on the following morning he learned that the merchant had departed for Mukden, to be gone a week or longer. The city was now agitated more than ever, and nothing but war was talked about on every hand.

Rather tired out, the young American returned to his hotel at six in the evening for dinner. He was about to pass up to the room he had been occupying when a porter stopped him.

“You are requested to report at the office,” said the man respectfully.

Wondering what was coming next, Gilbert walked into the office where the proprietor sat, smoking a cigar. He was a fat and rather a jolly-looking Russian.

“You wish to see me?” inquired Gilbert.

“I do, Mr. Pennington,” was the stiff answer. The hotel proprietor cleared his throat. “It is exceedingly unpleasant for me to do so, but I have to inform you that your room has been taken by somebody else.”

“My room? Why, I expected to keep it for some time yet.”

“Ahem! Sorry, but I cannot let you have it any longer.”

“Can you give me another just as good?”

“I cannot give you any room at all.”

Gilbert looked at the hotel proprietor, who dropped his eyes in confusion. There was an awkward pause.

“This means, I suppose, that you do not want me here any longer?”

“Hardly that, Mr. Pennington. I—ahem!—I cannot let you have any room; that is all there is to it.”

“But there must be some reason for this.”

“I am sorry, but I cannot offer any explanations. Your luggage has been packed for you and stands at the lower end of the hall. As soon as you have settled up, you may remove it to any place you please, or I will send it for you.”

“Do you think you are treating me fairly, M. Raspan?”

The fat hotel man drew up his shoulders. “Personally, I like you very much, Mr. Pennington,” he said. “But I am powerless in this manner. Times are not what they should be—our whole city is much upset. I cannot harbor anybody who defends the Japanese as you have done. M. Sandrek owns this hotel and also owns some of the houses in which the Japanese dwelt. You perhaps can put the tail on the horse.”

“Which means that M. Sandrek, through his rent gatherer, has ordered me from this hotel,” said Gilbert bitterly. “Very well, I will go and at once. How much is my bill?”

The hotel proprietor consulted his books. “Sixteen rubles and twenty-five kopecks,” he said. “But you will dine first, yes?”

“No, I’ll take my orders and go instantly,” returned Gilbert grimly. His temper was beginning to rise, and he controlled himself with difficulty.

“I am powerless, Mr. Pennington. If I went against the order——”

“Oh, I can understand your situation,” answered the young American, and continued with sarcasm: “I don’t expect every Russian to have a backbone of his own.”

“We have all the backbone we need!” cried the hotel man, and swept into his cash drawer the money Gilbert threw on the counter. “What about your luggage?”

“I will take the bag, and send for the trunk later.”

Once on the street Gilbert did not know which way to turn. There was another hotel close by, but the accommodations there were very poor. A third hotel was several squares away. He determined to try this and hurried in its direction.

“Have you just arrived in the city?” was the first question put.

“No, I have been stopping here for some time,” and the young American passed over his card.

“At what place?” and when he mentioned the name of the hotel he was asked why he had left.

“They did not wish me to stay any longer.”

“Is it possible? Wait, and we will see if we can accommodate you.”

Gilbert sat down, and in great haste a clerk was sent to the hostelry at which Gilbert had been stopping. Ten minutes later the clerk returned, and the young American was then told that he could not be accommodated.

“Here’s a state of things truly,” thought the ex-lieutenant. “I wonder if it is going to be this way all over.”

It was so at the next hotel, and also that following. Then Gilbert found a small place kept by a German who had a Russian wife. Business was bad with the German, and he listened eagerly to the offer the young American made him.

“I told you vot,” he said. “I keep you, but you say noddings apout it, hey? You haf der room py der back of der house und you eats dare, too, hey?”

“I’m willing,” said Gilbert; and so it was settled. By this time he was tremendously hungry, and never did a meal taste better than that which the German hotel keeper set before him.