before; and the heat had all but exhausted them, for each man was heavily equipped.
As one division of the Celestials was fleeing from the Americans, they, or at least a larger portion of them, plumped straight into the others near the embankment, utterly demoralizing them. "The Americans are coming! They number thousands!" was the cry, in Chinese; and then began a retreat such as Gilbert had never before seen, the Boxers tumbling over each other in their haste, tearing their flowing uniforms, throwing down guns and swords, and all the while waving their beloved banners and shrieking as if to arouse the dead.
The Russians saw the turn of affairs, and were quick to take advantage of the move. In a twinkling they leaped over the embankment, and poured a hot fire into the retreating enemy. Soon they were beside the Americans, and then they did all in their power to outstrip them. The only time a Russian soldier would pause was when he saw some wounded Chinaman trying to escape, when the wretched fellow would immediately be despatched with a bayonet.
"That's too much for me," cried Gilbert, as he watched one of these performances. "Those poor
