straight through to Pekin without sleeping." And the captain was about right.
At Yangtsun, Gilbert was placed in charge of a detachment stationed not far from the river, where there were a number of large warehouses filled with rice and other produce. These warehouses were owned by Americans, and it was the young lieutenant's duty to see that they were not destroyed.
The night was a gloomy one, as if rain was coming. It was Gilbert's time off, yet he felt too stirred up to sleep. Besides this, the wound over his breast, while it did not hurt outright, itched considerably, adding to his wakefulness.
Unconscious of danger, he walked slowly down the street upon which the warehouses were located. He met a number of Chinese; but all were unarmed, and appeared to be friendly.
At the end of the block was a sort of hotel, which was now almost deserted. But there was one Chinaman standing at the front door; and, as Gilbert passed, this fellow eyed the young lieutenant narrowly.
"It is the same!" he exclaimed in Chinese. "The very same!" And he clenched his fists in rage.
