They came out with a mad rush and charged straight at the drunken French marauders, firing quickly as they ran after the old manner which we knew so well.  As we gazed, the men from the relief columns fell back in disorder without any hesitation—­indeed, fled madly to the nearest houses and began pelting their assailants with lead in return.  Suppressed trumpet-blasts came again, rallying the attackers; more and more men rushed out from all sorts of places, and as this was no affair of ours, and our retreat would certainly be cut off if we dallied, we retreated at full gallop farther and farther to the west.  We were going straight away to where might be our damnation.

I do not remember clearly how far we rode, or why we galloped, but soon we arrived almost at the flanking city walls miles away, and found ourselves among scores and hundreds of the enemy, who were still lurking on the streets, half disguised and mixed with the townspeople.  They fired at us as we rode; they fired at us when we stopped; for many minutes there was nothing to be heard but the hissing of lead and fierce yells....

Conscious that only a big effort would pull us through, we boldly turned bridle and galloped to the south—­reached a city gate, went through at a frantic pace, and sought safety in the outer Chinese town.  Here it was quieter for a time, but as once more we approached the central streets, down which the Allies had marched, we came across other marauders.  This time they were Indian troops going about in bands, with only their side arms with them, but leaving the same destruction behind them.  Then we came across Americans, again some French, then some Germans, until it became an endless procession of looting men—­conquerors and conquered mixed and indifferent....

It was eight at night before I pulled up on my foundered mount at home.  I confess I had had enough.  We were dead with fatigue.  This was too much after one had those weeks of siege.

IV

CHAOS

August, 1900.

* * * * *

The refugee columns have gone at last, and have got down safely to the boats at Tungchow, which is fifteen miles away, and in direct water communication with Tientsin.  It is good that nearly all the women and children and the sick have been packed off.  This is, indeed, no place for them.  An Indian regiment sent a band, which played the endless columns of carts, sedan chairs, and stretchers out along the sands under the Tartar Wall, until they were well on their way.  That made everyone break down a little and realise what it has been.  They say it was like India during the Mutiny, and that it was impossible for any one to have a dry eye.  Even the native troops, rich in traditions and stories of such times, understood the curious significance of it all.  They talked a great deal and told their officers that it was the same.