University of Virginia Library

II.

Over the plains of C———, gliding stealthily through the woods in the darkness of the night, came a squad of Japanese soldiers. Many days and nights they had traveled thus; much ravage and slaughter had been done; helpless bands of Chinamen had been attacked by them, defenseless farmers in their homes assaulted, and small villages ruined. The leaders were cruel and relentless, one of them was reckless. They were not a large body of men—some five hundred, perhaps—and could not, so far from their base, have fought the enemy in open battle. But their work was more deadly than any open combat could have been. From village to village they went, attacking the defenseless; for, in most of the smaller towns and villages in this region, knowledge, even of the war, had scarce reached, and they were unprotected and at the mercy of Japanese soldiers.

The moon rose high and red over the soldiery, and cast wild, flickering shadows around them. The night was strangely still and peaceful, scarce a leaf stirred in the trees and bushes that screened the mass of men crouching, gliding, whispering under its shadow, awaiting a band of some two hundred Chinese mandarins, with their wives and servants. Their object? Massacre. The reason? National hatred, grown almost to insanity, duty to the emperor, thirst for blood.

"Sure are you this is the night?" queried one shadow, bringing his horse close to that of another official's.

"Information by me yesterday received was 'the next moon;' and lo, it is here."

The words were hardly out of his mouth when another put his hand out and, leaning forward, peered through the darkness.

"Hark! Listen!"

A faint muffled sound is heard—a dull beat, beat, beat. It is the unmistakable sound of sandaled runners. It becomes clearer; it is nearer! In the distance the watchers descry the gleam of a yellow light. It moves slowly; they stand in the deep hush, their swords drawn in readiness. Louder and louder becomes the beat of the runners; brighter and brighter gleams the yellow light, flickering from yellow to red and green, as the expected band approaches nearer and nearer, all unconscious of the lurking danger.

Hah! they are at hand!

The silent mass of men among the trees become quick, alert, flying figures. They spring out from the shadow into the gray moonlight and fall upon their prey like hungry panthers. Taken by surprise, the Chinese party hardly attempt to defend themselves. Without parley, without remonstrance, only one universal startled cry of terror rings out; then they fall like grass beneath the scythe, and the groans of the dying mingle horribly with the clash of swords, gleaming like tongues of intermittent flame in the glancing flare of the moon.

Only one group is left. They have slipped into the shadow of the friendly trees, the trees which only lately shadowed the enemy. But can they hide from the sharp eye and alert ear of the Japanese? The father grasps the hand of the son. He is wounded and faint. He stumbles, falls, and the crash of his fall among the bushes betrays them. One horseman springs to the ground, and, plunging his sword into the darkness at the fatal spot, knows he has done well, for a groan of agony and the fall of a heavy body answers his stroke. Then he hears a woman weep.