"Yes, that's all right. But you hadn't time to work that out before you served again. Besides, it passed within a yard of where you were standing."

"Well, what if it did? A miss is as good as a mile. There was no use going up in the air about it." "Look here, Sinclair. What the devil ever induced you to play this fool game, anyway?" "I had to."

The consul looked at him in silence for a minute. "Well, perhaps you had," he said slowly.

"I'll leave you to see those people back to the rendezvous, Beauchamp. Carteret may need a stretcher. I see that Miss MacAllister is quite able to walk. I'm going to MacKay's.”

He turned to go. As he did so he heard Miss MacAllister pronounce his name. He thought that she was only saying a conventional farewell. He lifted his hat and said:

"Good-afternoon, Miss MacAllister."

Without looking in her direction he was gone.

XXVII

THE CHARGE OF THE TAMSUI BLUES

D

URING the week which lay between the first and second bombardments, Dr. Sinclair and Miss MacAllister saw very little of each other. The doctor was busy. But that was not the main reason why he did not meet Miss MacAllister. The previous week, no matter how busy he was, he could always find time to meet her.

In

The fact was that circumstances had changed. He did not want to see her. Between the halcyon days of the previous week and the gloom of this one some painful episodes had occurred. The stormy interview between mother and daughter had taken place. her indignation the young lady had determined to make it plain to everybody in general, and to Dr. Sinclair in particular, that she was not enamoured of him and was not offering her love where it had not been sought.

In some respects she succeeded beyond her expectations. Sinclair was convinced. More than that! He was convinced that all along she had been only playing him. That reference to the song he had sung at the dinner made assurance doubly sure. All through those days when she had been so fascinatingly kind she had only been leading him on so that her revenge might be the sweeter.

If Sinclair had been a melodramatic individual, he would probably have torn out whole handfuls of his

fair hair, thrown them two or three feet above his head in the direction of the high heavens, and raved some foolish and incoherent ravings, telling his wrongs to the winds and the wild waves, if they cared to listen. If he had been a profane person, he would have sworn picturesquely and would have asked Sergeant Gorman or some one else equally vigorous to kick him down the steep hill, on which the consulate was built, and up again for being a fool.

As he was neither melodramatic nor profane, he did neither of those things. He merely made up his mind in a cool, determined way that he would avoid Miss MacAllister as much as the narrow limits of their little community would allow, and when he was forced to meet her he would not grow enthusiastic over her, to say the least. When he met Gorman he did not ask to be kicked, but said:

"Look here, sergeant, there are going to be some lively times round here, or I'm no prophet. The French are not going to be satisfied with bombarding. And if they land a force and it comes to rifle-fire and perhaps the bayonet, there'll be some Chinese hurt."

"Right you are, docther. The shells don't take manny lives, barrin' thim that the noise scares to death. But the rifle bullets, they're the little divils that do the wurrk."

"Well, supposin' that you get leave again and we offer our services to General Soon to organize an ambulance brigade."

"I'm wid you, docther, from the drop of the hat." So it came about that all that week Sinclair and Gorman were out on the wide commons in the vicinity of the Chinese camps, with squads of Chinese detailed for that service, to use General Leatherbottom's ex

pression, "lickin' them into shape." Gorman gave them drill. Sinclair taught them how to splint and bandage, to put on a tourniquet and check the flow of blood, to make improvised stretchers and carry patients without irritating their wounds past recovery.

Soon the fair-haired "Life-healer" was nearly as well known and as popular among General Soon's yellow-skinned, slant-eyed hordes as he had become in Liu Ming-chuan's army before Keelung. But none of these Chinese soldiers knew how much of the training they received they owed to the fact that the " Redhaired Life-healer" had been badly used by the "barbarian girl" at a game of "phah-kiû," or strike ball.

One day Sinclair and Gorman were out as usual drilling their corps and training them in the principles of first aid. An exclamation of "Tai-eng-kok lâng" (British people) from some of their men caused them to look up. Passing them some distance away were Miss MacAllister and Carteret. The latter was carrying an easel, for among his accomplishments he included considerable skill in sketching and painting.

They were making their way towards a little eminence which commanded a magnificent view in all directions. Carteret had asked her to take a walk, that he might point out the beautiful scenery. She had accepted the invitation in the hope of meeting Sinclair, whom she had not seen since he had so abruptly left the tennis lawn.

66

Fwhat the divil is the spalpeen takin' the lady there for, wid thousands of Chinese soldiers rampagin' around for some diviltry to do?"

Sinclair took one look, then lowered his head, and went doggedly on with his work, giving the Chinese ambulance corps a demonstration of how to splint a