“If you make a sound, I’ll have to shoot,” he said, resting a heavy knee upon her chest and clasping her slender wrist in a vise-like grip of a single hand.

The girl breathed heavily.

The man reached toward his hip pocket and drawing forth a bright metallic object held it close to her face.  Her breath stopped short.  Then a flood of light struck her full in the eyes, as her captor pressed the button on his flash lamp.

“God! a woman!” the man gasped.  The exclamation and voice were clearly not Japanese.

Ethel felt the grip loosen from her wrists and the weight shift from her chest.

“You’re no Japanese!” he said under his breath, at the same time letting the glowing flash lamp fall from his hand.

Presently Ethel raised her head and reached for the lamp where it lay wasting its rays against the black soil.  She now turned the glow on the other and saw kneeling beside her a young man in American clothes.  He was hatless and coatless and his soft gray shirt was torn and mud bespattered.  A massive head of uncombed hair crowned a handsome forehead, but the face beneath was marred by a stubby growth of beard.

“Who are you?” whispered Ethel finding her voice.

“Put out the light,” he commanded, reaching forward to take it from her.

“Who are you?” he asked reversing the query as they were again in darkness.

“I’m a girl,” said Ethel.

The man laughed softly.

“I’m not,” he said.

Ethel drew herself into a sitting posture.  “Which side of this war are you on?” she asked.

The man was afraid to commit himself—­then a happy thought struck him.  “The same side that you are,” he answered diplomatically.

It was Ethel’s turn to smile.

“You are an American?” she ventured at length.

“Yes,” he said.  “So are you?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you wearing Japanese clothes?”

“Because—­” she said hesitatingly, “I haven’t any others.”

For some minutes he said nothing.

“Are you going to give the alarm of my presence?” he asked at length.

“No.”

“Then I’ll go,” he said.

Rising from his knees, but still stooping, he made off rapidly down the cotton row.

Ethel breathed deeply.  Confused thoughts flashed through her mind.  She would not return to go with Komoru; in her Japanese garb she feared the early morning sweep of American cavalry; but to the man who had just left her, why could she not explain?

Without further debate, she arose, and at top speed ran after the retreating figure.

The next instalment of this absorbing tale will appear in the September issue of physical culture.  It tells of how the Japanese attempt to obtain control of the United States through scientific measures rather than barbarous warfare, and is wonderfully interesting and readable.  Don’t miss it.