"What is your name?" he asked. "Can I do anything for you?"
"Ivan--Ivanovitch," gasped the soldier, making a great effort to speak. "I do not--know--I do not understand--I am a--soldier of--Russia--It was the command--the Little Father--ah-h!"
He spoke no more, but lay quiet and silent, his white, boyish face, upturned to the slow rain. Fred opened his military coat, and laid his hand upon Ivan's breast. The ikon was there, treasured to the last; but the heart no longer beat. At the Little Father's command, Ivan Ivanovitch, like thousands of his comrades, not knowing why, not understanding, but faithful to the last, had given up his home, his dear ones, his life.
With a long sigh Fred drew the flap of the young soldier's coat over the still face, remounted his pony, and rode on towards Liaoyang.
He found the town in a state of wild confusion, with heavy carts rumbling through the ill-made streets, crowds of wounded men on their way to the hospitals and the trains for Mukden; refugees clamouring at the railroad station, householders removing their goods, and thousands of people hurrying to and fro like ants in a breached ant-hill. With much difficulty the reporter got a brief dispatch through to the _Bulletin_, and sought a well-earned rest at his lodgings near the station.
Night after night the cannon thundered, and day after day the battle raged. The Russian front was now crowded in from thirty miles to less than eight. At great risk Oyama resolved to divide his army, and attempt a flanking movement, which proved successful. On the seventh day of the battle, Kuroki threw a strong force across the Taitse, ten miles above the town. This movement turned the scale. Kouropatkin gave orders to fall back on Mukden.
Larkin, meanwhile, was doing the work of half a dozen reporters and a Good Samaritan besides. He took his place beside the surgeons and nurses, whenever he could leave the firing line, and laboured by the hour, caring for the wounded, especially the Chinese who suffered the fate of those caught between two conflicting forces. The losses on both sides had been fearful, and the amount of ammunition expended almost incredible. In one day of the battle the Russian artillerists reported one hundred thousand shots fired.