“But the danger has rippled off our backs like water off the feathers of a duck!  If we meet no more peril than we have now encountered, we’ll get back to New York fat and healthy.”

“One thing I fail to comprehend,” Captain Martin said, “and that is why a flying squadron was sent with you.”

“To attract attention,” laughed Ned.

“To get you out of scrapes, I should say,” the Captain retorted.

“Well, then, both!”

“I don’t get it yet.”

“We might have reached Peking without our presence in the country being known to our enemies,” Ned said, “but that was not the idea of the Washington people.  I have already explained to the boys that we were to do our real work in identifying the man we want while on the way.”

“Oh, all right,” replied the officer, “but it seems to me that you might have made the trip in a quieter way with the same result.  These chaps would have found you, depend on that.”

“Yes, but we needed help,” replied Ned, “and we got it in the nick of time.  Guess the Secret Service people at Washington are all right.”

“Perhaps,” the Captain said, then, “we would better get the wounded men into the house and look after their wounds.  The others I’ll leave on guard.”

The injured marines were carried into the house and given such attention as could be bestowed in the absence of a surgeon.

“What next?” asked Frank.

“Peking!” answered Jack.  “We can’t heal these wounds by remaining here, and we can help by going on and sending a surgeon back.”

“But my orders are to remain with you,” Captain Martin said.

“Then leave most of your men here and come on,” Ned replied.

This plan was agreed upon, and would have been carried out at once had not something not on the program of the night intervened.  Captain Martin had detailed two men to sit with the wounded and stationed the others in a circle about the house when a shot was fired off to the east.

“I didn’t think they would have the nerve to attack the house openly before we got away,” Captain Martin remarked.

All listened intently, but there was no more shooting.

“That sounded to me more like a signal than anything else,” Ned observed.  “I wonder if they are out in force?”

“I think I’d better call the men in,” Captain Martin remarked.

The words were hardly out of his mouth when a skulking form appeared in the dim light which now fell from the stars.  The fellow was creeping from the house outward.

“A spy!” Jack whispered.  “Shoot, some one.  I haven’t my gun with me.  Shoot!”

The skulking man appeared to hear the words, though they were spoken in a very low tone, for he sprang to his feet and dashed away at full speed.  In a second he was lost to view in the thicket.

“Say, but that chap is some runner!” Jimmie cried.  “He went so fast I never thought to wing him!”