"Now, what the mischief can 'Burnt-face' be doing here?" Darrin gasped inwardly. "And, by the same token, what was he really doing in Manila?"

"Step out and get two or three of the missionaries who understand Chinese," Dave ordered in a low voice to the sailor nearest him.

Striking his hands together for silence, the Chinese governor sank down upon a richly carved chair which a yamen servant placed for him. Then he addressed Sin Foo in Chinese.

"His excellency demands to know the meaning of this extraordinary conduct," translated the under secretary.

"Ask his excellency if he is aware that the city is now alive with rioters?" requested Dave.

There was some conversation in Chinese, after which Sin Foo replied:

"His excellency says that his troops are upon the walls of the yamen ramparts."

"Does his excellency believe that his troops are going to be able to defeat the thousands of rioters who are marching here rapidly?" Dave asked.

After more conversation in Chinese Sin Foo explained:

"His excellency says he will guarantee the safety of all within the yamen precincts."

"Even if the rebels attack resolutely?" Dave insisted.

"In spite of any attack," Sin Foo a.s.sured him.

The missionaries who had been sent for were entering, but ahead of them darted a sailor who saluted the young officer and cried:

"Ensign Dalzell reports, sir, that the ramparts are being fired upon from the streets beyond. Ensign Dalzell believes, sir, that a general attack upon the yamen is about to begin."

"Tell Ensign Dalzell," Dave answered, "that he is to open fire as soon and as heavily as he deems best."

Then, to the astounded under secretary Darrin added:

"I must beg his excellency to go with me to the ramparts."

"He cannot-will not," protested Sin Foo.

"He _must_!" declared Dave Darrin firmly.

CHAPTER VII-BELLE HAS SOME "TIPS"

Whatever Sin Foo said, it was spoken in an undertone.

Near his excellency there was movement among the members of his retinue. In another instant the governor had vanished around the angle in the wall.

"Grab that 'Burnt-face' chap!" whispered Dave, to two of his sailors.

"Hurry him along to the ramparts, but don't be rough with him unless you have to be."

Then up to Sin Foo, in the same twinkling, stepped Ensign Darrin.

"Sir, I am sorry, but I haven't time to waste on formal speech. Since your governor has run away, you must go with me to the ramparts."

"But I-I am not a fighting man," protested Sin Foo, turning to a greenish hue, which in a Mongol, is equivalent to turning pale.

"I believe you," a.s.sented Darrin. "And you won't be very much of any sort of man, unless you make up your mind to do instantly what I wish of you. Come!"

Nodding to a sailor to escort the under secretary, Dave and two of his men brought up the rear and rushed out into the open.

Left alone without command, the governor's score of soldiers, lined up against the walls, after a bewildered pause shuffled off in the wake of their departed chief.

Cr-r-rack! On the rampart at the west of the compound a squad of sailors had opened fire on a party of Chinese who were firing from the shelter of the nearest houses. Dan ran over to them, and stood behind his marksmen before Darrin succeeded in reaching the top of the steps nearest to the firing party.

At the outer edge of the rampart was a low wall of stone some two feet in thickness. On the flat floor behind this the sailors had thrown themselves, aiming their rifles over the parapet. Behind them Danny Grin, sword in hand, took position, pointing out some of the places of concealment of yellow snipers.

"They've opened fire, sir," reported Dalzell, saluting as his chum came up.

"So I see," nodded Ensign Dave. "Men, don't shoot too hastily. Try to plant every bullet where it will be most effective."

"Aye, aye, sir!" came the hearty chorus. Cr-r-r-rack!

Half a dozen of the missionaries who had joined the sailors on this part of the rampart, were proving their manhood by doing careful, deliberate work with their rifles. While under other circ.u.mstances these men of the cloth would have preferred not to take a hand in such an affair as this, the danger that threatened a score of American women completely changed their viewpoint.

"These mission men and the other American residents are going to make as good fighting material as you can get out of untrained men," Dave remarked to Dan, in a low voice.

Suddenly the "Castoga" took a lively hand in the affair again, her guns belching forth sh.e.l.ls.

"Why, they're landing sh.e.l.ls in the ruins of the mission settlement,"

declared Danny Grin. "What on earth can that be for?"

"I can't guess," answered Dave training his gla.s.s on the mission ruins.

"Look! there are Chinamen, with shovels, running away. Have they been trying to intrench there?"

"Digging," answered a quiet voice behind the young officers, and Dave, turning, beheld the white hair and venerable face of Bishop Whitlock.

"They are seeking the treasure, or were, until the gunboat sh.e.l.led them out of our old compound."

"What treasure, sir?" Dave asked.

"Some Chinaman, either a simpleton or a mischief-maker, started the story that we missionaries had robbed a famous and very ancient temple at Sian-ho-Kung of a hidden treasure there, amounting to several million dollars' worth of gold and jewels, and that we had hidden the treasure by burying it in our own compound."

"There was no truth in that, sir?" asked Ensign Darrin incredulously.

"Not a bit, of course," replied the Bishop, smiling wearily. "Our entire treasure, in wealth, consisted of about seven hundred dollars in gold, belonging to our mission treasury. That gold is now hidden on the persons of men in my party."

Right over the top of his head Ensign Darrin felt something click.

Then, conscious that something had happened, he turned, to see his cap, shot from his head, sailing down into the compound. A marine below picked it up and ran up the steps to hand it to his commander.