The Japanese had made themselves at home in such of the Chinese houses as they occupied hereabouts. They squatted with stockinged feet on the " kang," they had improvised u hibachi " out of old oil tins, and they generally had a fire burning in a hollow in the centre of the room, as in Hokkaido and other cold parts of their own islands.
After having had a fine Japanese dinner with Haras friends we crossed a ridge of hills at sunset, and, lo! beneath us lay a lost Russian town! a fine collection of European houses like those at Dalny or Tsingtau, with well-gravelled walks and with long lines of stone steps before the doors. Chinese lions carved in granite guarded the approaches to these steps, potted plants of many varieties adorned them all the way up. Lights twinkled from windows. Blinds were drawn. I could almost believe that I was in a prosperous Russian settlement had it not been for the flag of the Rising Sun, which was hauled down at sunset from half a dozen lofty flag-poles.
Descending the hill we climbed one of the biggest flights of steps and entered a large room, all around which Japanese sat at desks. Some were in European civil dress, some were in semi-military dress, some were in " kimonos," and all were working hard at big ledgers and account books.
Leaving me standing severely alone in the middle of the room, Hara went forward to the manager, with the ait of a man who is going to spring a good joke. He saluted, but for about five minutes the manager was oblivious of his presence, and in the meantime the clerks stared at me coldly, tittered slightly, and exchanged comments on my appearance. One of them hit the right nail on the head with the remark, which he made in Japanese to a companion, that, judging from my camera, I must be a newspaper man. When Hara told his story, however, and he always told it, whatever it was, with great gusto, a sudden change came over the scene. The manager shook hands with me heartily and asked me to pray be seated, while the glances directed at me by his satellites became all at once sympathetic.
Nevertheless, I could not help thinking how unenviable must be the feelings of a Russian prisoner, coldly received and coldly stared at, in a house which his money had built and in defence of which his blood had perhaps been shed. This must, however, have been the fate of many unfortunate Russians, for the manager told me that a colonel and one hundred and fifty prisoners had passed through to Liaoyang the day before, while about five thousand were expected next day. He also informed me with a laugh that formerly the Russian military governor of the place lived in that very house.
I had so long identified myself with the Russians, I had so often eaten their khleb-sol (bread and salt), that this laugh of triumph somewhat jarred on me; but, after all, I cannot say that I felt out of place among the Japanese. Although their ways are not always our ways, the Japanese are human; and it does not take very long for a white man to forget that their skin is not quite the same colour as his. I f there is ever a " yellow peril," it will be an educated peril, and not the wild, barbaric, mysterious and inhuman monster with visions of which some people have tortured their brains.
Fortunately there was a train leaving at once for Liaoyang, and Hara and I secured an empty goods waggon, in which we made ourselves comfortable with numerous red army rugs which the Tanko manager kindly lent us.
About half-past ten at night we were in Liaoyang station. Liaoyang? I could hardly believe my eyes. When last I had seen Liaoyang, the station platform was crowded with Russian officers and the crowd in the buffet was dense. Angry cries of " Boyka! " ("Waiter"); "Chelovek!" "Peevo!" ("Beer"); " Itte syuda! " ("Come here"); and deprecatory responses of " Sichas! " (" Immediately ") filled the air. Here and there was a Red Cross sister, or a Korean boy, who looked very much like a Japanese, and who did not seem to push the sale of his basketful of cigarettes with all the zeal that you would expect of a bond fide pedlar. Away down at the dark end of the platform a crowd of big, patient, clumsy privates were bargaining hoarsely with a Greek sutler, who kept a store there. A stone's throw from the station the lights of sundry Greek stores gleamed through innumerable rows of bottles and were reflected in an intervening lake of watery mud which was, in places, almost deep enough to drown one.