tory, there, lay in a matter of words; the heavy losses incurred on a single occasion were judiciously distributed over several weeks, and reported gradually as the result of many such encounters. The Riffi grant that the French are good fighters. They think less of the troops the Spaniards put in the field. "They are no match,' says this interested critic, 'for the hardihood of the Riffi. I have watched handto-hand fighting in the trenches. Our men creep up armed with bombs and long knives. They throw a bomb here and there. The soldiers between have no idea of spreading for individual fight, but draw together in the middle with a gregarious instinct of mutual support. All the remaining bombs are flung into the crowd, and with the Moslem battle cry a knife charge follows. No quarter is asked or given. I have seen trenches after an attack in the Great War, but nothing I have seen hardens me against the sight here.' And so it goes on.

But it is not all ferocity and bloodshed. 'I have seen and known many people in high places,' said the General, 'but Abdul el Kerim (I am glad you don't say "Krim"-it is Kerim, the Merciful, one of the epithets of Allah) -Abdul the Merciful, I say, is the finest man of them all. Let me tell you a story of him. One day after a scrap I went to secure some water for my wounded. There was only a limited supply, just enough for my poor fellows' needs. Abdul el Kerim stopped me. ""Take half," he said, "the rest is for the others"-and he pointed to the French wounded. "But surely," I began unthinkingly, "one's own men come first." He cut me short. "I have spoken," he said, and there was no more to say. Would the commander on the other side have been equally chivalrous to our wounded? I doubt it.' We learn, however, that medical sup

plies for the wounded have been admitted into the Rif.

The confidence of these mountaineers was not to be won easily by a foreign officer. Courage alone is not enough, though he must be careless of death, must be ready to lead a hand-tohand charge in person. He must be able to inspire respect and something of discipline- to teach them better tactics, if necessary; to train their horsemen, may be, to charge home with a rush on an outlying party instead of firing from their saddles at skirmishing distance, where the enemy's rifles have all the advantage. And good leadership must be backed by just and upright conduct, by sympathy and consideration for his men and their belongings.

My friend's admiration for the Riffi was unstinted. He admired them as 'bonny fighters,' and because they care so strongly for the sanctity of their womenkind. He admired them for what he had seen of their old Moorish chivalry, extended even to prisoners, which appeals to anyone who feels and fights as a gallant knight. They are lovable with children, and to their horses at least they are as the merciful man who is merciful to his beast. No cavalry officer need daily inspect the mounts of his men, who care for their precious horses before they care for themselves.

The Riffi, one gathers, stand somewhere between Robin Hood and the Highland caterans, ready enough to rob or cut a throat on professional occasion, but not taking advantage of their weaker neighbors; fierce enough in actual fight, like your Highlanders, but, like your Highlanders, not cruel afterward to an enemy who plays the

game.

But they do not think their present enemies play the game when they treat the Riffi as savages, outside

the conventions of civilized warfare, to be shot down by explosive bullets. They are blamed for mutilation of the fallen. My friend denied it of the true Riffi.

As to the chance of a treaty of peace, he was not hopeful. Firm proposals, he asserted, do not come through to Abdul el Kerim. Propositions for certain boundaries there have been, but these are not kept, especially by the Spaniards as soon as they feel strong enough to disregard them, and thus the Riffi cannot make terms with either of their adversaries. And, in general, negotiations are not straightforward as between men who can be trusted to make a pact and keep it; the Riffi cannot trust these Europeans not even their soldiers, whom they might respect as fighting men. Behind diplomatic advances the strongest weapon is bribery. All the time the allegiance of local tribes is undermined by bribery of the sheiks, whose weakness is avarice bribery even to betray the persons of Abdul's officers, our present General included. Mistrust grows; genuine offers

carry no confidence, and unauthorized emissaries add to the confusion by playing an irresponsible part. This method of dealing with a proud enemy, he averred, is not that of the born colonizer; it ends in destruction, not assimilation.

And so our visitor goes out, as he came in meteorically; for he is dashing off to Morocco again. His wound has been treated and has healed; his Riffi friends are expecting him to return with medicaments as well as arms. His swift motor boat has to run the gauntlet of equally swift torpedo boats, who may have picked up his signals as he approaches the coast. Shall we hear news of him again, the nameless record of a blockade-runner sunk, or will he escape into the unknown fastnesses of the Atlas, to disappear in the mists of adventure, or to revisit us, perhaps, when this adventure is overpast? Here at least is a glimpse of an uncommon figure and of his hearty sympathies with the untamed Highlanders of the Rif.

My Korean friend T and my Chinese agent Chao, whom I called in for consultation and who were perfectly familiar with Japan's espionage system, told me that her head spies invariably exacted from the agents they employed incriminating contracts, which they considered indispensable in

1 From a Confidential Journal. Copyright by the Living Age Company. All publication rights reserved.

order to keep the latter in their power. T— told me that such papers were usually kept in the offices of the Japanese consulates, but that those of extreme importance were filed at the head Japanese Intelligence Bureau in Changchun.

Unfortunately T-, for reasons I have already described, could not accompany me to Harbin, whither I now directed my search. But he gave

me a letter of introduction to a friend there who, he said, could serve me as well as he himself could. On reaching Harbin I at once hunted up this gentleman and handed him the letter. I cannot mention his name or his nationality, but can only say that he assisted me without remuneration and at great personal risk. When I told him what I wanted he listened attentively, and after a moment's thought informed me that it would be almost impossible to get the paper I sought, especially in the short time I had at my disposal, since it would be only two or three weeks before Katzan's case came up in a military court. Nevertheless, he would do all in his power to procure it.

Four days later I was informed that the document was in Harbin, but that I could not get possession of it because several people would be held responsible if it disappeared. I then asked to have it brought to me only long enough to be photographed. I thereupon rented lodgings near the house where the document was kept, and arranged my apparatus and a darkroom for taking and developing a photograph immediately. Chao, who also followed me to Harbin, and T-'s friend called daily, but for a time they could give me no encouragement.

Eight days of intense nervous strain now followed. Then Chao came to my lodgings very much cast down and told me that an unexpected miscarriage had wrecked their whole scheme. This was most disheartening, for I had just received word from Irkutsk that Katzan's trial was set for ten days later. The letter bringing this news added that not only the townspeople, but even the officers detailed to prosecute the case, were convinced that the whole thing was a frame-up against Katzan.

Six days more passed in painful expectation. I deferred my departure to

the last moment, planning to take an express that would bring me to Irkutsk barely in time for the trial. This train left at midnight. At eight o'clock that evening Chao came in and said that nothing could be done. I packed up, resolving that if the decision went against us I would immediately resign, return to Harbin, get the document I was after by hook or crook, and then demand a new trial.

At nine o'clock several of my agents came into my room. We were all in the dumps and sat silently brooding over the situation. I ordered a little supper, but even this did not cheer up the party.

Suddenly, at fifteen minutes past ten, the doorbell rang and I heard the voice of T's friend in the lobby, asking if the 'chief' was still at the house. The next moment he came in, pale as a sheet, and without uttering a word took from his pocket a small sheet of paper, which he handed to me with shaking hands. It was Katzan's contract. It read:

"The undersigned, orderly of the general commanding the military district of Irkutsk, engages to serve honestly and faithfully the Japanese Government in consideration of a monthly salary of one hundred rubles. Signed, Corporal Katzan.'

The contract bore neither date nor place. As I still stood staring at it, hardly able to believe my good fortune real, T's friend, recovering his powers of speech, gasped: 'I can leave this document with you only ten minutes. Be quick.' I hastened to my photographic room, where half the necessary things were already packed, and with the help of my agents got them out of the bag and set to work. When I started to light the red lamp to develop the plate it seemed as if years had passed. The match went out. Not until a print was ready and I saw that

When I asked this gentleman how much I owed him for this priceless service he answered: 'Nothing. You cannot pay for that kind of thing, you know. It is only the sort of favor that a friend does for a friend of his friend.' And he departed.

On my way back to Irkutsk I decided to keep the results of my journey an absolute secret, for I feared that some new obstacle would be thrown in my way.

When I reached Irkutsk one of my lieutenants was waiting for me at the railway station with the heartening news that not only the townspeople but even the officers at the General's headquarters were saying that I had tried unsuccessfully to frame up Katzan and had fled to China.

I walked into the courtroom at ten o'clock and found the place crowded to overflowing with officers, soldiers, and civilians. Everybody was interested, not only because it was the first trial of the kind since our department had been organized, but because the defendant was the Commanding General's orderly and was popularly assumed to be innocent.

I was the first person upon the witness stand, where I related in a matterof-fact way all the circumstances connected with the case from the time my agent first met Katzan up to the latter's arrest, omitting only the Srul incident, in compliance with my promise to him. As soon as I had testified the court took a recess, and I wandered out into the corridors among the spectators. I discovered at once that my story had made a good impression. Not only people who knew me, but entire strangers, came up to me and expressed

their regret that my case was not more complete.

After the recess my agents were put on the stand. Their testimony was much less sensational than the public expected, and the audience was manifestly dissatisfied with it. Military considerations prevented my putting on the stand such capital witnesses as Chao and the detective who had posed as Katzan's friend, for that would have terminated their usefulness for my department. For the same reason nothing was said of the fact that we had discovered the Siraisi brothers photographing the map, or about Katzan's night revels at the General's residence.

When the court again took a recess I could see that the sympathy of the public had turned against me. Very few people addressed me, and I caught suspicious and ironical glances here and there. The third session was devoted to examining the witnesses for the defense, who had been selected by Captain N from among Katzan's

comrades and friends.

Captain N himself gave a brilliant character to the accused, whom he described as a conscientious, faithful soldier. He said that his arrest was the result of a misunderstanding, if not of something worse. The other orderlies all confirmed the captain's statements. One of them, obviously anxious not to violate his oath, said he had happened to see Katzan talking to a Japanese or a Korean stranger on the street; and another soldier, employed as a staff clerk in the intelligence division, said that Katzan had asked him for the names of the officers of that division, but that he had refused to give them. These two trifling incidents were completely lost sight of, however, in the overwhelming flood of evidence in Katzan's favor presented by Captain N- and the orderlies.

Katzan's advocate was a brilliant

young captain who grasped his listeners' state of mind at once and heckled my witnesses with sarcastic questions that helped to turn sentiment in Katzan's favor. The accused, seeing the way things were going, burst out in wild lamentations, protesting that he was the victim of unjust accusations. He was quieted only after the presiding officer of the court threatened to have him taken out of the room unless he kept still.

Then came the third recess. I could see that public sentiment was overwhelmingly against me. People shunned me as if I had the plague, and even my friends stood aloof. I imagine there was not a man present who did not believe Katzan innocent. When the court reassembled for the fourth time the General Quartermaster of the Staff came up to me and said: 'Your case is lost. It is a disgrace for your whole section.' To this I made no answer. The fourth session began at eight o'clock in the evening. A nervous flutter ran through the courtroom. People were waiting impatiently for the pleadings. Everyone felt certain that the whole affair was a frame-up against Katzan.

The officer in charge of the prosecution sat gloomily in his chair, prepared to make the tedious routine speech which his duty imposed upon him, although convinced that it was useless, while the counsel for the defense surveyed the audience with beaming countenances and chatted with Katzan, who was the happiest man present and answered the captain with a smile. Presently the president of the court turned to the prosecuting officer and motioned for him to begin his speech.

Just at that moment I stepped up to the judges' bench and, taking the photograph of the fatal receipt from my dispatch case, asked permission to submit to the tribunal another document.

I added that the welfare of the service had made it undesirable to submit this document at a public trial, but that I was now forced to do so in order to prevent an unjust verdict.

The president consented after a short consultation with his colleagues, and the document was read aloud while silence reigned throughout the hall. Its contents stunned the audience, the prosecutor, the attorney for the defense, and above all Katzan himself. Pale as chalk, Katsun stared at the president of the court with an expression of terror in his eyes. When that officer, turning sternly toward him, asked, 'Did you sign this contract?' Katsan fell on his knees and implored pardon:

'Forgive me, lord judges, forgive me! I confess, I confess everything. I served the Japanese as a spy. Pardon me! Pardon me! I will never do it again.'

I had no reason to remain longer. I was exhausted. My nerves were on edge, and I had eaten nothing since early that morning. So I asked the president's permission to retire, and left the court. When I walked out of the hall people cheered me, but I hastened to get away from them; only a few minutes before they had been glowering at me with contempt.

Proceeding immediately to the nearest eating-place, the Modern Restaurant, I ordered supper. Here I waited for my lieutenant and other members of my section who had remained in the courtroom to hear the verdict. They came an hour later, together with several of the spectators. It was all over. Katzan had been sentenced to four and one-half years of hard labor.

As soon as the lieutenant had made his report people flocked around me from every side. They said they believed the verdict was just, and expressed their astonishment that I had