unfrequently took to snowballing each other.

A friend of mine, who was in that war, told me the following story. The
Japanese troops were attacking one of the forts near Port Arthur with
their usual desperate valour. They cut _zig-zag_ trenches up the
hillside, and finally stormed and took a Russian trench close under the
guns of the fort. The Russians fled, leaving their dead and wounded
behind. After the _mêlée_, when night fell, five Japanese found
themselves in that particular trench with seven Russians--all pretty
badly wounded--with many others of course dead. The riflemen in the fort
were in such a nervous state, that at the slightest movement in the
trench they fired, regardless of whom they might hit. The whole party
remained quiet during the night and most of the next day. They were
suffering from wounds, and without food or water, but they dared not
move; they managed, however, to converse with each other a
little--especially through the Japanese lieutenant, who knew a little
Russian. On the second night the fever for water became severe. One of
the less wounded Russians volunteered to go and fetch some. He raised
himself from the ground, stood up in the darkness, but was discerned
from the fort, and shot. A second Russian did the same and was shot. A
Japanese did likewise. Then the rest lay, quiet again. Finally, the
darkness having increased and the thirst and the wounds being
intolerable, the Japanese lieutenant, who had been wounded in the legs
and could not move about, said that if one of the remaining Russians
would take him on his back he would guide the whole party into a place
of safety in the Japanese lines. So they did. The Russian soldier
crawled on his belly with the Japanese officer lying on his back, and
the others followed, keeping close to the ground. They reached the
Japanese quarters, and were immediately, looked after and cared for. A
few days afterwards the five Russians came on board the transport on