Chapter 20 - Page 2

doubtless are hidden the
robbers, awaiting the signal to pounce upon us.

Suddenly there is a burst of shouting, the thicket has given passage to
the gang in ambush--some sixty Mongols, nomads of the Gobi. If these
rascals beat us, the train will be pillaged, the treasure of the Son of
Heaven will be stolen, and, what concerns us more intimately, the
passengers will be massacred without mercy.

And Faruskiar, whom Major Noltitz so unjustly suspected? I look at him.
His face is no longer the same; his fine features have become pale, his
height has increased, there is lightning in his eyes.

Well! If I was mistaken about the mandarin Yen Lou, at least I had not
mistaken the general manager of the Transasiatic or the famous bandit
of Yunnan.

However, as soon as the Mongols appeared, Popof hurried Madame Caterna,
Miss Horatia Bluett, and the other women into the cars. We took every
means for putting them in safety.

My only weapon was a six-shot revolver, and I knew how to use it.

Ah! I wanted incidents and accidents, and impressions of the journey!
Well, the chronicler will not fail to chronicle, on condition that he
emerges safe and sound from the fray, for the honor of reporting in
general and the glory of the _Twentieth Century_ in particular.

But is it not possible to spread trouble among the assailants, by
beginning with blowing out Ki-Tsang's brains, if Ki-Tsang is the author
of this ambuscade? That would bring matters to a crisis.

The bandits fire a volley, and begin brandishing their arms and
shouting. Faruskiar, pistol in one hand, kandijar in the other, has
rushed onto them, his eyes gleaming, his lips covered with a slight
foam. Ghangir is at his side, followed by four Mongols whom he is
exciting by word and gesture.

Major Noltitz and I throw ourselves into the midst of our assailants.
Caterna is in front of us, his mouth open, his white teeth ready to
bite, his eyes blinking, his revolver flourishing about. The actor has
given place to the old sailor who has reappeared for the occasion.

"These beggars want to board us!" said he. "Forward, forward, for the
honor of the flag! To port, there, fire! To starboard, there, fire! All
together, fire!"

And it was with no property daggers he was armed, nor dummy pistols
loaded with Edouard Philippe's inoffensive powder. No! A revolver in
each hand, he was bounding along, firing, as he said, right and left
and everywhere.

Pan-Chao also exposed himself bravely, a smile on his lips, gallantly
leading on the other Chinese passengers. Popof and the railwaymen did
their duty bravely. Sir Francis Trevellyan, of Trevellyan Hall, took
matters very coolly, but Ephrinell abandoned