Produced by Barbara Tozier, Stephanie McKee, Bill Tozier
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net










THE RED MIRIOK


BY

ANNA M. BARNES


ILLUSTRATIONS BY

GEORGE A. NEWMAN


PHILADELPHIA

American Baptist Publication Society

1420 Chestnut Street


Copyright 1901 and 1902 by the
AMERICAN BAPTIST PUBLICATION SOCIETY

Published January, 1903


From the Society's own Press




INTRODUCTORY NOTE


Korea has been called the "Hermit Nation," as of all nations Tibet alone
has exceeded it in repulsing foreign influences. Only in 1882 did the
United States secure a treaty, and that opened the country to foreign
trade only in the capital, Seoul, and three ports. But in this treaty
Korea was treated with as an independent State, and its people are
distinct from either Chinese or Japanese and well repay study and
missionary labors. This little story is one of the first to present this
slightly known land and its customs, and therefore deserves special
attention from all who are interested in the Christianizing of Oriental
nations.




CONTENTS


CHAPTER I
Mr. Kit-ze               9

CHAPTER II
A Hasty Desertion       19

CHAPTER III
The Lost Recovered      30

CHAPTER IV
A Stowaway              39

CHAPTER V
Before the Magistrate   49

CHAPTER VI
A Friendly Hail         61

CHAPTER VII
An Entreaty             71

CHAPTER VIII
The Story of Choi-so    81

CHAPTER IX
A Theft                 90

CHAPTER X
An Arrested Sacrifice  102

CHAPTER XI
"One Soul"             115




ILLUSTRATIONS

"_Mr. Kit-ze's hat was moving across the organ_"                 17

"'_Yes, only a little, for it takes nearly three thousand of
them to make a dollar_'"                                         28

"_Yes, it was the red miriok_"                                   38

"_He began to shake him vigorously_"                             47

"_Cheefoo prostrated himself to the magistrate_"                 54

"_The old man was bolt upright, despite his years_"              69

"_Then, extending his hands, entreated_"                         79

"_He was permitted to look ... upon the priests at their
devotions_"                                                      85

"_He forthwith ... proceeded to throw rice into the well_"       92

"'_Stop!_' _entreated Helen_"                                   106

"'_Sorry. Sorry. It was wrong. She showed me_'"                 123




THE RED MIRIOK

CHAPTER I

MR. KIT-ZE


"There is one thing I forgot to mention," said Mr. Reid, resuming the
conversation. "If we do undertake our sampan journey, we must have Mr.
Kit-ze. I have already talked to him about it."

"Oh, father!"

The expression of Clarence's face so emphasized his protest that nothing
beyond the mere exclamation was necessary.

"Why, Clarence, what could be the objection to Mr. Kit-ze?"

"A good one, father. He is such an eel-like fellow. I know we couldn't
depend on him. Then it strikes me that his mind isn't right. He's always
muttering to himself and clutching his breast in such a queer way. Oh,
I'm sure it would be a bad step to take Mr. Kit-ze."

"That is just like a boy!" declared Helen, his sister, "jumping at
conclusions."

"You mean girls," retorted Clarence. "They fairly spring at them; yes,
reach out their arms to grasp 'em as they spring."

"Come, children, don't spar," warned Mr. Reid. "But, my son," turning to
Clarence, "I fear it is as your sister asserts, you have arrived at
conclusions too hastily with reference to Mr. Kit-ze. He is a little
strange in his manner, I'll admit; but his friends, some of whom belong
to the mission, tell me that he is a very good sort of fellow, honest
and well-meaning, though he is rather grasping as to money matters."

"He is well-meaning," asserted Helen; "and I think the reason he is so
close about money is because he has many who are dependent on him. Yes,
I like Mr. Kit-ze. Though some of his ways are strange, yet he is
good-natured and kind when you know him well."

"Guess, then, I don't know him well," admitted Clarence.

"No; and until you do, you won't like him."

Clarence whistled, and reached over to give the tail of Nam-san, the
monkey, a twist, which that quick-tempered little animal resented by
scratching at him and then springing away.

"I think I know what is the matter with Mr. Kit-ze," said Mr. Reid, as
though in sudden comment after following a line of thought. "He is a
religious enthusiast."

Helen looked at him quickly, a glad light over-spreading her face. "Oh,
father, I didn't know that Mr. Kit-ze had been converted. That _is_
news."

"I don't mean that, Helen. I wish that it were true, for I have been
working earnestly to that end for more than a year. What I have
reference to is that he is an enthusiast in his own religious belief."

"Why, I didn't know, uncle, that these people had any religious belief,"
said his nephew, Mallard Hale, who for a few moments past had not joined
in the conversation. "I believe, yes, I am sure I have seen it stated
that as a country Korea is practically without a religion."

"That is true in one sense, Mallard, but not in another. While Korea has
no established religion, what might be called a national religion, as
have China, Japan, and her other neighbors, yet such of the Koreans as
have not individually embraced Buddhism, Confucianism, and the like, are
given over wholly to ancestral and to demon worship, especially the
latter."

"What do you mean by demon worship, uncle?"

"They believe in spirits of all degrees, good, bad, and indifferent, but
principally the bad. They fill the air around them; they dwell in their
homes; they sit at their feasts; they even perch upon such portions of
the human body as suits them. They bring evil or good as they are
angered or appeased. To counteract the influence of the evil demons the
people carry about with them certain charms to frighten them away.
Around their habitations, especially in the country districts, they
erect these grotesque figures having resemblance to the human form, the
more hideous the better. They are called _mirioks_. In the cities, where
there is little space for such erection, the figures, considerably
diminished in size, are either kept in the homes or carried about the
person. In many instances this devotion to _mirioks_ amounts to
fanaticism of the most pronounced kind."

"Oh, yes, that is just what Mr. Kit-ze does!" exclaimed Joyce, the
younger son of the family. "He carries it around in his bosom. Sometimes
he takes it out and talks to it. I have seen it. Oh! it is the ugliest
little red thing!"

All eyes were now turned inquiringly upon him. "I believe, yes, I am
sure," he continued, "if I were to see it in the black dark, I'd run
from it."

"Why, how could you see it in 'the black dark'?" quizzed Mallard.

Joyce flushed as the laugh went around at his expense, then he answered:
"Oh, I mean if it were so I could see it even a little bit. I am sure I
could see its eyes, for they are made out of something that just
glitters and burns."

"It is as I supposed," said Mr. Reid; "Mr. Kit-ze is an enthusiast on
the subject of this _miriok_. This accounts for his strange behavior,
his mutterings, and the clutchings at his breast. He keeps the _miriok_
there in the folds of his gown. He believes that it wards away the evil
spirits and invites the good. On other subjects I am sure he is all
right. At any rate, if we are going to attempt that journey up the Han
we shall be almost dependent on him. He not only has the largest sampan
and is considered the safest boatman on the river, but he also knows the
way better, having ascended higher than any other, I am told."

"Then, uncle, we must have him by all means," said Mallard decisively.

"Yes," added Clarence somewhat flippantly, "red _miriok_ and all."

"Yes, even the red _miriok_ to get Mr. Kit-ze," declared Mallard. Then
he asked, "Isn't the journey attended by some degree of danger?"

"With considerable danger at some places, I understand, Mallard; and
this is why we should have a stout sampan as well as a sampan man who
understands both his business and the river."

The family of Rev. Mr. Reid, missionary at Seoul, Korea, consisted of
his wife, her widowed sister, his two sons, Clarence and Joyce, and his
daughter, Helen. Mallard Hale, an American youth of seventeen, had
recently come to make his home with his uncle. He was only a few months
older than Clarence, and the two cousins were very fond of each other.
Helen was nearly fifteen and Joyce twelve.

For some days they had been talking of this sampan journey up the Han.
Mr. Reid had long wanted to take such a trip into the interior for the
purpose of making observations of the country and of studying the
conditions of the people along the south branch of the Han. It was
reported to be a wonderfully attractive and fertile section, with a
people whose manners and customs, differing from those in the cities,
made them of deep interest to the traveler. They were described as quiet
and peaceful, given to hospitality, and fairly burning with curiosity.

The Mission Board, under the auspices of which Mr. Reid labored, had for
some time contemplated the establishment of a branch mission in the
interior. They were waiting for him to decide the point where it should
be located. He had hesitated a long time about undertaking the sampan
journey because as yet there had not been sufficient money to defray the
necessary expenses. But the coming of his nephew, Mallard Hale, had
quickly done away with this obstacle. For Mallard was comfortably fixed
as to income, and he insisted on bearing all the expense of hiring and
propelling the sampan, while his uncle was left to provide only for
provisions and equipments.

"Then, uncle," said Mallard, after they had talked a little further,
"let us decide positively on going, also that we take Mr. Kit-ze and his
sampan."

"Yes, red----" began Clarence, but the words were cut short by an
exclamation from Joyce.

"Why," he cried, "here is Mr. Kit-ze now!"

Sure enough, Mr. Kit-ze was coming in. It was just after dinner, or
_opan_, as they would say in Korea, and Mr. Kit-ze was still caressing
his lips with his tongue, well pleased with the toothsome morsels that
had gone to comfort his stomach. He was a little stouter and taller than
the average man of his race, standing five feet six in his sandals,
weighing, perhaps, one hundred and sixty pounds, and was fifty years of
age. His complexion, originally of a bright olive, had now a deep tan
through the action of sun and winds. He had a straight nose, but rather
distended nostrils, the oblique Mongolian eye, while his hair, of a deep
russet-brown smeared with lampblack, was wound in a knot at the top of
his head.

Mr. Kit-ze had on the loose white robe of his countrymen, with flowing
sleeves, that fell just below the knees. It was belted in with a girdle
of straw. Beneath it showed his baggy trousers, gathered in at the
ankle. A _katsi_ (hat), in shape like a flower pot turned down over a
table, wadded stockings, and sandals of straw completed his attire. When
he removed his hat, on Mr. Reid's invitation, there was a little
tight-fitting skullcap of horsehair underneath, carefully placed on top
of his knot of hair. He seemed solicitous about his hat, not knowing
just where to place it. It was, indeed, a huge affair for a hat, the
brim being nearly six feet in circumference. At home Mr. Kit-ze had his
swinging case for his hat, but here he was at a loss as to its disposal.
Helen at length came to the rescue and placed it on top of the organ,
where it rested, one portion of the brim lying upon a large music book,
the other flat upon the surface of the instrument.

"Well, Mr. Kit-ze," said Mr. Reid, "are you ready to take another
journey with your sampan up the South Han?"

Instead of replying to this question, Mr. Kit-ze suggested: "Better go
up the North Han, honorable instructor. There are the Diamond
Mountains."

Clarence jumped up suddenly, shouting out his delight: "Yes, father,
let's go to the Diamond Mountains. Oh, won't that be glorious?"

"And pick up treasure," suggested Helen; "enough to build the new
mission chapel that is so needed," she added, her eyes taking on a
deeper glow as she glanced at her father.

"Why, are there really any treasures to be found in those mountains?"
asked Mallard, catching the excitement.

Mr. Kit-ze, who understood enough of the language to catch the drift of
the question, quickly replied: "Yes, honorable sir, there are treasures.
Two gentlemen from your country got a whole wallet full of diamonds in
the mountains last week. They say they can be picked up like bamboo
reeds after a freshet."

"Only Mr. Kit-ze's enthusiasm," said Mr. Reid in an aside to his nephew.
"Some one has been filling him with the story, which is vastly
exaggerated, I am sure. But later in the year, Mallard, if you desire
it, we can make the trip to the Diamond Mountains. Now my Master's
business calls me in another direction."

"All right, uncle, that Diamond Mountain trip can wait. Yes, we'll take
it later," he added after a pause.

"Is your sampan ready, Mr. Kit-ze?" Mr. Reid now asked.

[Illustration: "MR. KIT-ZE'S HAT WAS MOVING ACROSS THE ORGAN!"]

"Not quite, exalted master; but your servant can make it ready in a day
or so."

"Are you sure of that? We should like to start by Tuesday of next week;
and when we are ready we want the sampan ready. You understand?"

"Most learned teacher, it shall be as you wish," Mr. Kit-ze assured him,
with a bow that brought his forehead almost to the floor.

A full understanding was now had; the day set, arrangements perfected,
and the amount of Mr. Kit-ze's remuneration satisfactorily adjusted.

Mr. Kit-ze arose to go. All this time, having declined the chair offered
to him, he had been squatting upon his heels, his legs doubled back
under him. Considering the position, it was surprising how quickly he
got up. He had barely gained his feet when a sudden cry that startled
them all escaped him. He was gazing straight toward the organ, his
features growing rigid, his eyes dilating. Following his gaze, it took
them only an instant to discover what was the matter--Mr. Kit-ze's hat
was moving across the organ, moving as though it had feet and were
walking.




CHAPTER II

A HASTY DESERTION


The pupils of Mr. Kit-ze's eyes grew larger and larger. They seemed
ready to burst into flame. He began to mutter: "The spirit! the spirit!
It has attached itself to my hat! It will now attend me home and stay
there; how long, I do not know." He made a sudden movement toward the
door. He was evidently going away without his hat. Nothing could induce
him to touch it while the spirit had taken hold of it in so
demonstrative a way. Plainly his thought was that it was better to lose
the hat than to run the risk of contact with the spirit.

His movement was hasty, but, quick as he was, Helen acted more quickly.
In an instant of time, as it were, she had grasped the whole situation.
Her eyes too had done her good service. Her glance in the direction of
the moving hat had shown her what Mr. Kit-ze did not see, nor even the
others at first, an inch or so of snake-like tail showing beneath the
rim of the hat. She sprang toward the organ, quickly threw up the hat,
and exposed to view the whole furry body of Nam-san, the monkey, who
began to chatter at her indignantly, the shrill notes heard above the
burst of laughter that now came from the others.

Mr. Kit-ze was just backing out of the doorway, but he paused as Helen's
quick movement disclosed Nam-san under the hat.

"You see it is the monkey, Mr. Kit-ze," said Helen smiling. "He is a
mischievous little beast, and doesn't respect anything that he can have
his fun with; not even your hat, Mr. Kit-ze. But he hasn't hurt it. See,
it is all right!"

She advanced toward Mr. Kit-ze bearing the hat. She held it toward him,
but he did not take it. He still seemed alarmed, and his glance was
nervous.

Seeing the condition Mr. Kit-ze was still in and his attitude toward the
hat, Mr. Reid now came to Helen's assistance. "There has no harm
befallen the hat," he assured Mr. Kit-ze. "It was only the little beast
under it, as you saw, that was causing it to move. It is all right now,
my friend," and he took the hat from Helen and held it toward Mr.
Kit-ze.

Mr. Kit-ze still hesitated, but, after further reassuring words from Mr.
Reid, he consented to receive the hat. Yet he did not put it on; he
turned away, holding it gingerly between his thumb and one finger.
After he had gone, they found it on the doorstep, a mark apparently made
with red chalk drawn all around the rim.

"The superstitious old crank!" exclaimed Clarence in disgust; "what made
him leave his hat with us? Why didn't he take it away and destroy it, if
he was that afraid of it?"

"I think he left it as a reproach to us," said Mr. Reid. The eyes around
him sought his inquiringly.

"It is a hint that, as the misfortune befell it here, and he is now
deprived of his hat, we should replace it with another."

"And how will Mr. Kit-ze feel toward us, uncle, if we do not?" asked
Mallard.

"I fear not very pleasantly, for a while, at least," replied Mr. Reid.

"Then the new hat must go to him by all means," said Mallard. "We can't
afford to start off with our sampan man in the pouts."

"No, indeed," assented Helen.

So the next day they sent Mr. Kit-ze a new hat, with expressions of
regret at what had happened, and with the assurance that the other hat
had been destroyed.

"For that is what he expects of us," Mr. Reid had said. "He drew the red
chalk mark so as to confine the spirit within the hat, then left the hat
for us to destroy, together with the spirit. All pure foolishness," he
concluded, a little emphatically. "We'll just throw the hat aside."

"No, father," said Helen decisively, "we will burn it."

"And thus encourage Mr. Kit-ze in his silliness?" asked Clarence.

"In his superstition," corrected Mr. Reid.

"But it is all so real to him, poor man!" said Helen. And she continued,
her eyes softening: "If it will make him feel better to know it is
destroyed, isn't it worth while?"

"Yes," assented Mallard heartily, "it is. We'll burn the hat, my Helen.
I'm sure uncle won't object."

"Oh, no," assented Mr. Reid. "If Helen wants to take the trouble, let
her do it."

A day or two later Mr. Kit-ze came again. He had on his new hat, and was
in the best of humor. Especially did his face express pleasure when
Helen, carrying him to a spot in the yard, showed him the small pile of
ashes to which the hat had been reduced. He stooped hurriedly, gathered
them up, and, holding them in his palms, blew his breath hard upon the
mass, scattering it to the four winds. Then he grunted with
satisfaction, and, going down on hands and knees, made Helen a series of
the most profound bows.

He had come to tell them that the sampan was ready, but on account of
the great danger of the shoals near Seoul, they must make their
arrangements to start from Han-Kang, four miles from the city.
Themselves and their supplies could be transported thither by pony-back.
Mr. Kit-ze further informed them that he had secured, as both
interpreter and assistant boatman, one Mr. Cheefoo, a graduate of the
government schools. He had recently fallen upon hard ways, and was glad
enough to earn a little for himself, as well as to see some of the
world, even if it were only his own country. Mr. Cheefoo would be sent
to assist them with the loading, and to guide them to Han-Kang, where
Mr. Kit-ze and the sampan would be found awaiting them.

Mr. Chefoo came a day ahead of the time set for starting, for the
supplies must be carefully packed into bales ere they could be loaded.
He had too, some suggestions from Mr. Kit-ze as to what to take and how
to take it. The selection of the necessary provisions and other supplies
had cost them much thought and planning. They knew they must not
overload the sampan, as much as they might want to take some things. On
the other hand was the danger of starting out with a too meagre supply.
They finally decided on the following: seventy-five pounds of flour,
thirty pounds of rice,--they expected to buy more of this on the way,--a
half-bushel of beans, a strip or two of dried beef, a small amount of
meats in cans and of tomatoes for soups.

"We can get eggs and vegetables from the country people," said Mr. Reid,
who had traveled some in the interior districts, "and there will be fish
in the river to be caught."

The other supplies consisted of a brazier for charcoal, a frying pan,
saucepan, and kettle, some drinking mugs of stoneware, plates and soup
plates of tin, knives, forks, and spoons, the latter of wood. Mallard
had his camera, and Clarence the fine Winchester which his cousin had
presented to him. In addition, each traveler carried a rubber coat, a
pair of blankets, and two changes of underclothing. One thing they came
near forgetting, but Mrs. Reid's forethought caused them to include it
among the stores almost at the last minute. This was a little case of
medicines.

It was an excited and happy party that rode away from the mission house
early on the following Tuesday morning. In addition to Mr. Reid,
Mallard, Helen, Clarence, and Joyce, there were Mr. Wilburn, a young
missionary from another station, and his sister, Dorothy, a very dear
friend of Helen. Indeed, for two years past the girls had been almost
inseparable. Mr. Reid's native assistant in the mission work and his
wife were to be the companions of Mrs. Reid and her sister during the
two weeks the party expected to be away.

They moved through the narrow streets, so narrow that it was necessary
to go in single file. Even that was difficult at times, for, though the
hour was early, a mass of people was beginning to stir abroad. Along
each side of some of the streets ran a gutter, green with slime and
thick with all manner of putrid matter. The low mud huts, with their
queer, horse-shoe shaped straw roofs, were set so close to this it
seemed that any one coming out of the door must fall into the slime if
he were not careful. All along the streets dogs and children were
tumbling about, sometimes rolling the one over the other. Even the close
observer would have found it hard to decide which was the dirtier, dog
or child.

"Oh, my, the dirty youngsters!" exclaimed Mallard, as he picked his
pony's way gingerly along, sometimes finding it quite difficult to keep
from riding right upon a squirming little mass of humanity. "Where are
the mothers," he continued, "to let them run so into danger?"

"You will soon find out, Mallard," replied his uncle, "that the Korean
woman has her hands too full of the major duties of washing and ironing
to attend with any degree of success to the minor one of looking after
her children. There! do you not hear that strange rat-ta-tat noise? That
is made by the wooden club coming down upon the garment wrapped about
its iron cylinder. Wherever you go over Seoul, at almost any hour, day
or night, you can hear that familiar sound. It denotes the Korean
slave-wife's battle with the white clothes of her lord and master, which
must receive a certain amount of gloss, or there will be a storm in the
domestic sky."

As they came out through the massive stone arches of the great South
Gate, its lofty drum chamber with tiled roof overhead, a new world
seemed to burst upon them. They could see plainly now the line of
mountains and the nearer circlet of hills, the latter flower-crowned and
sparkling like jewels in the golden light of the sun. Brilliant, indeed,
was the coloring where the rich clusters of azaleas grew, and the
tangled masses of clematis and honeysuckles. Butterflies and
dragon-flies flitted through the air; numerous ducks and geese hovered
along the edge of the river, now alighting and skimming the water for a
few moments, then dipping wing to fly away. Flocks of cranes waded in
and out of the shallow places, hunting for small fish to seize. All
around was the beauty and the glory of the spring,--matchless skies,
bursting flowers, and singing birds,--such a spring as makes Seoul and
its surroundings a joy to eye and heart, never to be surpassed, always
to be remembered.

They took the path along the river, and in a little more than an hour's
time had reached Han-Kang, where they found Mr. Kit-ze and the sampan,
both in fine trim and ready to be off. Mr. Kit-ze had changed his white
clothing for his boatman's suit, which consisted of a blouse and Turkish
trousers of coarse blue cotton cloth. He was very proud of his sampan,
and insisted on showing them its various fine points as well as dwelling
upon them.

"Never has such a craft gone up the waters," he declared; and indeed it
did look workmanlike alongside of those usually seen on Korean streams.
To begin, it had two very essential qualities--it was strongly made and
it was well calked throughout. From fore to aft it measured thirty-six
feet, was seven in width at its widest portion, and drew six to seven
inches of water.

At Mr. Reid's request, Mr. Kit-ze had rigged up a new and a more
substantial roof along the ridgepole and its supporting framework. This
was composed of thick, water-tight mats of tough grass. There were also
curtains of the same material that could be fastened along the sides in
case of rain or when the glare of the sun was too strong. This roof was
only about five feet from the floor of the sampan, so that it was very
plain to all eyes that most of its occupants would have to content
themselves with sitting or with standing in a stooping posture. The boat
had five compartments, three of them from seven to eight feet long, and
the other two only small affairs indeed. One of the latter was in the
bow of the boat and the other at the stern. Here the boatmen stood to
pole the boat during the day, and in them they curled down to sleep at
night, each rolled in a straw mat and with the side of the boat as a
pillow.

"All hands to the stores!" announced Mr. Reid. "The more quickly we have
them in and are off the better. The sun will be pretty warm after a
while."

Mr. Chefoo had brought along a young man to carry the ponies back, and
he too was anxious to begin his return journey. So all hands set to with
a will, even Helen and Dorothy assisting "like good fellows," as
Clarence expressed it.

Mr. Kit-ze, following Mr. Reid's instructions, had previously carried
aboard the sampan a supply of charcoal and some bundles of faggots. It
was only the stores brought by the ponies that now had to be loaded.

One thing amused Mallard greatly. This was the shape in which most of
their money to be spent on the way had to be brought, strung on cords of
straw. And the amount had proved almost a full burden for one pony,
though in all it was only about twenty dollars. What queer looking coins
they were! of copper, with a small square hole through their center.

[Illustration: "'YES, ONLY A LITTLE, FOR IT TAKES NEARLY THREE THOUSAND
OF THEM TO MAKE A DOLLAR.'"]

"This is our often abused but ever available 'cash,'" said Mr. Reid,
holding up one of the crude bits of metal for Mallard to see. "As there
are no bankers or money changers on the way, we must take it with us,
for it is the only coin accepted in the rural districts. We must have a
little ready money with us," he added.

"Oh, uncle, you call that a _little_?" and Mallard pointed to the pony
with his burden of coin.

"Yes, only a little, for it takes nearly three thousand of them to make
a dollar."

Mallard recalled his uncle's words now, as he was helping to store the
coin away in what Helen and Dorothy had termed the sitting room of the
sampan.

He had turned to address a merry remark to Helen when he was struck by
the appearance of Mr. Kit-ze. The boatman had stopped in the midst of
something he was doing as suddenly as though he had felt the force of an
electric shock. He had thrown his head up and was now clutching
nervously at the folds of his blouse. Almost at the moment that
Mallard's eyes were directed upon him he uttered a sharp little cry. It
was of sufficient compass to reach the ears of the others. As their eyes
too were turned upon him, what was the astonishment of all to see Mr.
Kit-ze the next moment rush up the bank to where one of the ponies, with
empty saddle, was standing, and flinging himself upon it, go galloping
away like one suddenly out of his senses.




CHAPTER III

THE LOST RECOVERED


Exclamations of astonishment and of dismay followed Mr. Kit-ze. "What
can he mean?" asked Mr. Reid, his eyes fixed in wonder upon the
fast-retreating form of his boatman. "He surely hasn't deserted us!"

"It evidently looks that way," replied Mr. Wilburn.

"Now we are in a box!" exclaimed Clarence. "How are we to go on without
our sampan man?"

"Well, we have the sampan," remarked Mallard cheerfully. "The only other
thing now is to look out for some one to take charge of it."

"Easier said than accomplished," commented Mr. Reid. "Besides, though
Mr. Kit-ze has deserted us, yet the sampan is his. We can't take
possession without his consent."

"He has forfeited his right to protest against such a step," declared
Mr. Wilburn, "by his desertion and breach of contract. I am for taking
possession of the sampan, engaging some one to have charge of it,
assisted by Mr. Chefoo here, then allowing Mr. Kit-ze so much for its
use."

"But a competent sampan man is hard to find," said Mr. Reid. "That was
why I stuck to Mr. Kit-ze."

"Oh, but it is too bad to lose our trip!" exclaimed Mr. Wilburn,
"especially when so much relating to our work depends on it," and he
looked wistfully at Mr. Reid.

"Yes, too bad," assented Mallard.

"Oh, we must go," declared Clarence.

Even Helen and Dorothy were for going on, that is, if satisfactory
arrangements could be made.

"But maybe Mr. Kit-ze will return," suggested Helen.

"Yes," said Mr. Chefoo, who now spoke for the first time, "he will
return." All turned to look at him inquiringly. He had spoken very
positively.

"What makes you say that?"

"Because, honorable sirs, he went away as one who will come back. There
was no parting word. He will return."

"He didn't have sense for any parting word," commented Clarence. "It
seemed all taken from him."

"No," asserted Mr. Chefoo, "it was only the excitement that comes when
one knows there has been a loss."

"'A loss'!" echoed Clarence.

"Yes; Mr. Kit-ze has either lost something of very great value, for
which he has now gone to make search, or else he has forgotten something
that he has gone to bring. It is one or the other as you will in time
discover, son of the honorable teacher."

"But why act in that demented way? Couldn't he have explained to us, and
then gone after it in a respectable fashion?"

"It was something by which he set so great a store, youthful sir, that
he was overcome by what its loss signified to him. I should say,"
continued Mr. Chefoo, "that it is something without which he could not
proceed, or without which he----"

Here Mr. Chefoo paused.

"Well?" asked Clarence.

"Without which he would fear to go on."

"I see!" exclaimed Mr. Reid. "It was----"

"Let me finish, father," cried Clarence. "It was the red _miriok_. That
old crank has either left it or lost it. Now we must be tied up here
waiting his pleasure."

"Yes," said Mr. Reid in a disgusted manner, "it was the red _miriok_
that carried him off in that demented way; I am sure of it. But don't
call him a crank so boldly, Clarence. It would offend him should he hear
it."

"Well, what else is he? It is just too bad to be deserted in this way
and for such silliness. Oh, I wish that the red _miriok_ was in the
bottom of the river."

"Then, we'd never get Mr. Kit-ze to proceed," assured Mr. Wilburn, who
by this time had heard the story of the red _miriok_; "or at least not
until its counterpart was procured. But we can't stay here," he
continued. "We must, at least, try getting on to the next village. There
Mr. Kit-ze can join us. We'll leave word for him. This is a very
objectionable locality for more reasons than one, and the sooner we move
away from it the better."

In the meanwhile a large crowd had gathered, both on the river bank and
in the shallow water surrounding the sampan. All were agape with
curiosity. It is a well-known saying in Korea, and one the truth of
which travelers have often proved, that if you move on, very little
comment is excited; but if you stand still and appear to be engaged in
anything, or even to be looking at an object, curiosity of the most
intense kind is aroused. It takes but a minute or two then for the crowd
to gather around you, each individual member thereof following anxiously
the glance of your eye and hanging with almost breathless intent upon
every movement of hand or leg.

There were women and children in the crowd as well as men. The former
were so overcome by their curiosity that they had for the time forgotten
to keep their long, green coats close up about their eyes, which is the
custom when women are abroad in Korea. They now hung loosely about their
necks, the long, wide sleeves that are rarely used swinging over their
shoulders.

An old woman with much vigor of speech offered them barley sugar for
sale. She was very dirty, and her wares looked as uninviting as herself.
But feeling sorry for her, Helen invested quite liberally in the barley
sugar, immediately bestowing it upon a little group of open-mouthed
children who stood near. In some way the old woman had caught a part, at
least, of the situation. She seemed to comprehend that they were at a
loss whether to go on or to stay. In return for Helen's graciousness she
came to the rescue by suggesting that they send for a _mutang_
(sorceress) who lived near. She would come with her drum and cymbals,
her wand and divination box,[1] and in a little while she could tell
them what to do.

The sun was now climbing nearer and nearer the meridian, and its rays
were growing unpleasantly warm. More than an hour had been wasted since
the loading of the sampan. They had burned the bridge behind them, as
the saying is, by sending the man back to the city with the ponies.
There was nothing now but to go on, even if they had to turn back in the
midst of the journey.

Mr. Chefoo was the good fairy that came to the rescue. He seemed to
regret Mr. Kit-ze's behavior keenly, and to be deeply sympathetic with
the sampan party in its desire so plainly expressed to be off on the
journey. He was a big, good-natured fellow, strong and hearty looking,
with a clear eye and with much intelligence expressed upon his face. He
had too, a pretty fair scope of English, which made his attendance all
the more satisfactory and agreeable.

Mr. Kit-ze, he continued to assure them, would return. He felt certain
of it. They would leave word for him and proceed to the next town, since
this one was so objectionable with its foul smells and its rather
rough-looking population. The first step then, was to hire a man to help
him pole, as he felt certain he, Mr. Chefoo, could direct the movements
of the sampan up to the next village. There were no rapids of any
considerable danger in the way.

"All right, Mr. Chefoo," said Mr. Reid. "Go ahead and hire your man, but
be sure he is one on whom we can rely."

"I'll have a care to that, honorable teacher," assured Mr. Chefoo.

The first man approached declared that he couldn't go, as his wife
needed him to sit and watch her while she washed the clothes. The second
one said he must first ask his mother and, as she lived two villages
away, they must wait until the following morning ere he could give them
his answer. The third wished to know if he would be permitted to take as
many as seven suits of clothes with him, as he could do with no less;
also if provision would be made for their washing and ironing along the
way. On being assured that no such concession could be granted he went
away much aggrieved.

Another said he would gladly attend them as their poleman if they would
promise not to tie up anywhere along the bank where there were tigers,
or even where tigers were known to have been on the surrounding hills.
As they could give no such promise with the prospect of fulfilling it,
he too had to be dismissed without an engagement. He then tried to drive
a sale with them of two tiger bones at three hundred "cash" each,
warranted to give strength and courage. As they hadn't the faith he had
in the efficacy of the commodity, the purchase was declined. Another
hour and more slipped by in this way.

Things were growing lively, if they were somewhat monotonous, for a
great crowd was now surging about Mr. Chefoo, Mr. Reid, and Mr. Wilburn.
The boatman had them with him for the purpose of consultation. To add to
the hubbub a string of oxen and their drivers on their way to the city,
the backs of the oxen piled with mountains of brushwood, had drawn near
the men, the drivers overcome by curiosity at the sight of the crowd.
Between their yells and shouts to the oxen and their noisy salutations
passed to those they knew, there was a babel indeed.

In the very midst of these sounds came a sudden cry, sufficiently loud
and prolonged to attract the attention of many. While the bargaining
with the would-be polemen went on, the young people had gathered within
the sitting room of the sampan, that is, all with the exception of
Clarence. He had stretched himself along the stern of the boat. His head
was lying on his hand upheld by the elbow. Thus it was considerably
elevated, and thus he had a fair view of the water all around the
sampan.

The Han is often called the River of Golden Sands. It is a clear, bright
stream, its bed covered with thick layers of white sand. Along this sand
particles of golden-hued gravel sparkle in the sunlight as though they
were the pure metal itself. In many places, even of considerable depth,
the bottom of the river is plainly seen. Where the sampan lay there was
only the depth of about two feet of water. This had for a time been
stirred into some degree of murkiness by the feet of those who pressed
curiously about the sampan. But as the crowd had now withdrawn to the
bank, where Mr. Chefoo bargained with the polemen, the river had
cleared.

As Clarence lay along the stern of the boat glancing down into the
water, his attention was suddenly attracted by something that rested at
the top of a little hillock of sand. First its shape, then its color
arrested his gaze. The next moment there came that wild shout from him,
a compromise between a station-master's train call and an Indian
warwhoop. Then those whose attention was now riveted upon him saw him
hastily throw off his coat, his shoes and stockings and, quickly rolling
up sleeves and trousers, spring into the water. An instant later he held
up something in his hand, his shirt sleeve dripping with the water.

"The red _miriok_!" he cried. "See! Mr. Kit-ze must have dropped it as
he leaned over packing the things."

Yes, it was the red _miriok_.

"Oh, its eyes are shinier than ever!" cried Joyce. "Guess that's cause
the water washed 'em. It's the same horrid, ugly thing I've seen Mr.
Kit-ze pressing in his hands."

[Illustration: "YES, IT WAS THE RED MIRIOK!"]

"Oh," said Helen, "if Mr. Kit-ze could only know!" Even as she spoke,
Mr. Kit-ze was seen coming rapidly toward the river.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] A box in which are carried three or more coins with
characters stamped upon them. The coins are cast upward three times,
falling again into the box. The combination of characters each time
gives the _mutang_ her clue to the divination or prediction.




CHAPTER IV

A STOWAWAY


Mr. Kit-ze had left the pony in town and now came on at a rapid
dog-trot. He was covered with dust and perspiration, and his hair, which
had been shaken from its knot, was now partly hanging in much disorder
down his back. When he had first rushed away, it had been with the
thought that the _miriok_ had been left at home, that it had in all
probability dropped from his clothing as he slept. But as a rigid search
failed to reveal it, he at length came to the conclusion that he had
dropped it in or near the river while helping to load the sampan. He had
stooped over many times, he knew. Why hadn't he thought of that ere
coming away? Yes, the first search ought, by all means, to have been
made in and around the sampan. But then he had been so excited over his
loss he hadn't taken the time to reason about it at all. Now he would
hasten back to the boat and resume there the search for the _miriok_.
Oh, he must find it, or failing, secure another like it. He could not
think of going on the journey without his _miriok_, for would not
disaster be sure to befall him if he did? But where was such another as
this _miriok_ to be had? As he recalled with what difficulty this one
had been secured, Mr. Kit-ze grew more and more excited over his loss.
Oh, he must return to the river at once! as there was a chance that he
had dropped the _miriok_ there.

Thus Mr. Kit-ze, coming in sight of the sampan, saw Clarence standing in
the water and holding something at arm's length over which all were
exclaiming. It took only a steady glance to show him what it was. The
next moment, with a ringing cry, he endeavored to increase his pace,
lost his footing, and went rolling down the slope, stopping just at the
water's edge. It was Helen who reached him as he regained his feet. She
had taken the _miriok_ from Clarence, and was holding it toward Mr.
Kit-ze, saying in her softest, gentlest tones:

"Here, Mr. Kit-ze, is something of yours that Clarence has found in the
river. We were so sorry when we knew you had lost it, and are glad now
that it can be returned to you."

With a little cry of delight he took the _miriok_ from her, clasped it
against his breast, prostrating himself before her almost to the ground.
This he did the second and even the third time.

The sudden coming of Mr. Kit-ze, his mishap, and the scene that followed
between him and Helen on the river bank had formed considerable of a
diversion for a part of the crowd. Even the excitement of Mr. Chefoo's
still unsatisfactory interviews with the polemen had, for a time, paled
before this newer and greater one. Ere she could extricate herself Helen
was surrounded by quite a rabble. Many faces were pressing up about her,
but there was one that attracted her attention in such a way that it
startled her. It was a somewhat worn and haggard face, with restless,
piercing eyes, and a nervous twitching of the lips that impressed itself
upon Helen the moment she saw it. She noticed that its owner's gaze soon
left her face and fixed itself in the direction of Mr. Kit-ze. The eyes
had now a startled look. They were fastened upon the _miriok_ that Mr.
Kit-ze was still holding against his breast, but in such a way that it
showed plainly. Helen noted this riveted gaze, as she also saw his lips
moving. By this time her position had become very unpleasant. She felt
too, a little chill of fear as she looked at this man. Was his mind
upset? However, Mr. Kit-ze, having recovered his senses along with his
_miriok_, was equal to the emergency. He safely conducted her out of the
surging crowd and to the sampan.

Mr. Reid and Mr. Wilburn, with Mr. Chefoo, being informed of the return
of Mr. Kit-ze, joined them as rapidly as they could in view of the crowd
that bore them company at the sampan. Considerable satisfaction was
expressed at the finding of the _miriok_, though the two missionaries
some hours later expressed themselves quite vigorously to each other on
the subject.

Mr. Kit-ze, who had by this time profusely apologized for his sudden
departure, was as anxious as the others to be off. There was no need to
delay another moment, he assured them. He motioned to Mr. Chefoo to take
his place in the stern, while he, grasping his long pole, took a similar
position in the bow.

"Hurrah!" cried Joyce, "we are off at last."

He stood up in his delight, clapping his hands and, as the boat was
given a sudden turn at that moment, he assuredly would have tumbled over
the side into the river had not Mallard caught him.

"Better keep your eye on the polemen hereafter," Clarence advised him,
"ere you try any acrobatic performances on a sampan."

They found some difficulty in getting away from the crowd, many of whom
followed the sampan for some distance into the water. These Mallard
finally turned back by the happy thought carried into execution of
tossing a handful of "cash" toward the shore. The last they saw of the
village was the scrambling forms in the water, and the line of low
hovels, built of mud-smeared wattle, with no vestige of windows and with
their black smokeholes plainly defined.

Yes, they were off at last, really afloat on the glorious Han, _the_
river of Korea, which, in two branches, sweeps almost across the
peninsula, forming two great waterways, navigable for flat-bottomed
craft for more than two hundred miles.

They found the river teeming with moving life. In addition to the
flatboats there were many junks passing back and forth, for the Han is
the great artery of commerce for the eastern provinces. Those going into
the city were laden with produce, pottery, bundles of faggots for
firewood, and the like, while those coming out held cargoes of
merchandise, both home and foreign, and salt from the seacoast.

Some of these junks were very old. They carried prodigious sails,
despite their rotten timbers, and looked as though they might turn over
at any moment. The most of them creaked horribly, and when our friends
in the sampan heard one for the first time, they thought for a moment it
was some great beast in terrible pain. When they found out their mistake
a hearty laugh went around.

Though the sun was now quite high, and its rays very warm, yet Mr.
Kit-ze knew the stream so well that he could keep near to the bank. Thus
for much of the way they had the shade from the trees and from the
overhanging bluffs. They found their curtains too, much protection.
Their little sitting room was very cozy and comfortable. Helen had
brought some oilcloth matting for the floor of the sampan, and a little
oil stove that they could light when the air was damp and disagreeable.
Here too were cushions, one or two folding chairs, and the bedding which
the girls were to use at night, together with the oilskin cases in which
they kept their clothing, a small supply of books, writing materials,
etc. In the next compartment forward Mr. Reid and Mr. Wilburn had stored
their effects, as they were to occupy it jointly at night. Here all
would dine when they were afloat; here too, the service of morning and
evening prayer would be held. The three boys slept and kept their
effects in the compartment just behind that of the girls. The straw roof
along the ridgepole extended over all, even for a part of the way over
the small, boxlike quarters of the two boatmen. In addition our party
was provided with oilcloths for the better protection of the stores, and
with mosquito netting.

"This is fine, even finer than sailing on the Hudson at home!" declared
Dorothy, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

"Or the noble Mississippi, down in our Southland," added Helen. "How
pleasant this is! Oh, I had no idea it could be so delightful!"

"You just wait, my sister, until you strike some of the rapids,"
admonished Clarence, his face taking on a very solemn expression, "and
begin to roll about like loose apples in a cart, or find your feet
hanging where your head ought to be. Then I'm no prophet if you don't
completely change your form of expression."

"Oh, for shame!" cried both girls in a breath.

"I think it is real mean of you," declared Helen, "to try to spoil our
enjoyment of the present by introducing into it the suggestion of those
terrible things that await us. As for myself, I believe in enjoying what
is sweet and good while we have it, without borrowing trouble with
reference to what is in the future."

"A philosophy in which I heartily agree," said Dorothy.

There was indeed much to make the trip delightful, for the beauties of
the spring were all around them, in the sky, in the water, in the green
knolls overhanging the river. The stream continued to be quite shallow.
At some places it gurgled over the rocks only a foot or so below the
sampan. They came now and then to where the cattle waded knee deep in
the lush grasses. These turned to view them in mild-eyed astonishment as
they passed by chatting and laughing, then went on with their grazing.
Flocks of mandarin ducks and wild geese flew by; some of the latter even
swam close to the sampan. There were too, numbers of the imperial crane,
and once in a while a pink ibis wading along the edge of a rice field.

Clarence took his gun to shoot one of these, but Helen and Dorothy began
to beg for its life. "We don't want to eat it, so why destroy it?" asked
Helen.

"Oh, wouldn't you girls like a wing each for your hats?" asked Clarence
a little mischievously.

"Oh, no indeed," declared Dorothy. "No bird wing for me! You know that
well enough, Master Clarence," and she looked at him reprovingly.

"Well, the truth is," confessed Clarence, "I want it for my cabinet. I
know a young Japanese in Seoul who has promised to show me how to stuff
all I bring back. In the meantime he has taught me how to preserve them
while on the trip."

"If you must do it then in--in the cause of science," and here Helen
looked at him quizzingly, "wait until we can't see you commit the
murder, won't you?"

"All right," assented Clarence cheerfully. "But see here, sister," with
earnest protest, "don't call it murder."

"Well, the cruelty of sport then," corrected Helen.

At that moment a shout from Joyce attracted their attention. "Oh, look
at the pheasants!" he cried. "Quick! Clarence, I know you can shoot one
or more of them if you try."

Sure enough, there were the pheasants right along the edge of the rice
field, fine, fat fellows, and many of them.

"Be careful," warned Mr. Reid. "Examine the surroundings well before you
fire. There might be some one near."

Assured that there was not, Clarence raised his gun. "Beg pardon,
girls," he said slyly, as he adjusted it to his shoulder. "Pheasants are
_so_ good to eat."

They gave a little exclamation, then quickly covered both eyes and ears.
The next moment a report rang out, followed instantly by another. When
the smoke cleared away five of the birds were seen in their last
flutterings.

"Now, how are we to get them?" asked Mallard.

"Why, sure enough, I didn't think of that!" exclaimed Clarence in
dismay. "We can't carry the sampan close enough, that's certain."

Mr. Chefoo was now seen throwing off his sandals and rolling up his
pantaloons, while Mr. Kit-ze, holding the sampan steady by means of his
long pole, was giving him some directions. The next moment Mr. Chefoo
sprang over the side of the sampan and into the water. He slipped once
or twice as he was trying to make headway over the rocks, and two or
three times also, he was seen to mire; but notwithstanding these
difficulties he reached the birds all right, and was soon returning with
them. As he came again to the side of the sampan it was toward the
compartment occupied by the boys, the one in the rear of that in which
all had been sitting since the boat left Han-Kang. He placed his hand
upon the side of the boat to vault upward, but as he did so a quick
exclamation escaped him, which the next moment changed to a decided
whoop as Mr. Chefoo landed full in the compartment. A second or so later
what was the astonishment of all when he dragged into view by the neck
of his blouse a man, and began to shake him vigorously. To Helen was
given something more than astonishment. Her heart leaped up, then almost
ceased to beat. For the face exposed to view by Mr. Chefoo was the same
she had seen on the river bank at Han-Kang with the glittering eyes
fixed upon the red _miriok_ Mr. Kit-ze held.

[Illustration: "HE BEGAN TO SHAKE HIM VIGOROUSLY."]




CHAPTER V

BEFORE THE MAGISTRATE


The man made no effort to resist Mr. Chefoo, neither did he offer a word
of protest, but stood silent and sullen, his lean face leaner than ever
in its side view, his eyes half closed and gazing steadily downward.

"The rogue!" cried Mr. Wilburn. "He was there for no good purpose. Come,
sir, what have you to say for yourself?"

But still the culprit made no answer. He only raised his eyes and let
them sweep past Mr. Wilburn, past them all to Mr. Kit-ze, and rest there
with a deep and burning glance.

"Speak to him, Mr. Kit-ze," said Mr. Reid. "Find out what was his object
in concealing himself in the sampan. It may be," he continued
charitably, "that he wanted to steal a ride to one of the villages."

But Mr. Kit-ze, instead of obeying this request, shifted himself a
little farther away from the man, and seemed to be intent on something
in the river.

"I think Mr. Kit-ze doesn't want to get mixed up in any trouble," said
Mr. Wilburn in an undertone. "He probably fears it may end in his having
to appear before a magistrate. That always means a fine, you know,
whether one is in the right or the wrong. It is evident, brother, that
we must adjust this matter ourselves with Mr. Chefoo's help, since Mr.
Kit-ze plainly doesn't want to take a hand in it."

But neither threats nor persuasions could elicit a word of reply from
the man. Even Mr. Chefoo's fine speeches failed.

"Can he be deaf and dumb?" asked Mr. Reid finally.

"No, father, he is not," replied Helen positively.

All eyes were now quickly turned to her, astonishment plainly written on
the faces.

"Why, my daughter, how do you know?"

"Because, father, I saw him in the crowd that surrounded me for a few
moments on the bank of the river at Han-Kang. I distinctly heard him
talking to himself, though I could not understand the words. I thought
at the time," she continued, "from the way in which he regarded Mr.
Kit-ze, that they might be acquaintances."

As Helen spoke these last words, she turned her head so as to get a view
of Mr. Kit-ze, but he still persistently kept his face turned away,
while he seemed to be making aimless search in the river with his pole.
He was assuredly doing nothing toward the progress of the boat, since
that still remained stationary in the little rocky inlet toward which he
had dexterously steered it when Mr. Chefoo had started for the birds.

Desiring that he should understand what Helen had suggested, Mr. Reid
repeated it to him. The man was no acquaintance of his, Mr. Kit-ze
emphatically declared.

"I think we had better pitch him into the river," said Mr. Chefoo, "and
leave him to get out as best he can."

"Yes," said Clarence, "he deserves a ducking, if no more."

"No, we won't be so cruel as that," Mr. Reid replied, "although he may
have been after no good. We'll go ashore at the next village and leave
him."

"But first," said Clarence, "hadn't you better search him? He may have
taken something of value."

"Yes, uncle," said Mallard, "we ought to do that."

To this both Mr. Reid and Mr. Wilburn consented; but, though close
investigation was made, nothing was found on the man, nothing, at least,
to which they could lay claim.

Mr. Reid gave the signal for the sampan to be headed again up the river.
In the meanwhile, Clarence and Mallard kept watch upon the man, who had
now assumed a squatting posture upon the floor of the sampan. To their
surprise he began to mutter to himself. But even to Mr. Chefoo the words
were unintelligible; all except the part of one sentence. In this Mr.
Chefoo said had occurred the words, "Marble Pagoda," but he was
evidently still as much mystified as the others.

The village to which they soon came was one of considerable size,
picturesquely situated in the midst of chestnut groves. There were too,
many beautiful clumps of the umbrella pine over which vines of red and
white roses luxuriantly abloom were running riot.

A curious crowd swarmed around them at the landing. There were many in
it who had never seen a foreigner. The soft hair and white skins of our
friends called forth the most intense curiosity. Ridiculous too, were
some of the comments. Question after question was directed to them. Some
of these Mr. Chefoo answered. To others he paid no attention.

Who were they? Whence had they come? Were their families respectable?
Did their ancestors occupy tombs on the hillside? Could they take off
their eyes and pull out their teeth as it had been reported that they
could? All of these and many more came in rapid succession.

When it was learned that they wanted to put a man ashore a great hue and
cry was at once raised, and it was positively declared that this could
not be done until the magistrate was seen and consulted. Thereupon, the
magistrate's runners, six in number, appeared and assumed control of
their movements. These runners were gorgeous in light blue coats, wide
pantaloons of white, and big hats with red tassels.

Yes, the magistrate must be seen, they declared. Nothing else would do.
In a rash moment Mr. Reid consented to see the magistrate. It is safe
to say that had he known the result he would at once have headed his
sampan off up the river again even with its objectionable occupant.

It was finally arranged that Mr. Reid, in company with Mr. Chefoo and
the stowaway, should attend upon the magistrate while the others
remained with the sampan. At the last moment Clarence begged to
accompany his father, and consent was finally given. Mr. Reid could see
no reason why the stowaway should be carried along with them, as he had
really done nothing for which he could be punished. Their only desire
was to leave him ashore. But the runners persisted that it was necessary
that he too should go before the justice.

The magistrate was seated on the floor of a small platform over which
matting was spread. Around him, also squatting on their heels, were two
or three of his assistants. The chief official had on a robe of deep
blue silk, slashed to the waist at intervals, and with pipings of orange
silk introduced between. Only a small portion of his crimson trousers
was showing. On his head was perched a little hat of glazed horsehair
ornamented with crimson tassels.

Mr. Reid came into the room and very politely bowed to the magistrate,
while Chefoo prostrated himself, as did the runners. Clarence,
independent young American that he was, contented himself with saying,
"Good day, sir," then began to use his eyes to their fullest extent.

[Illustration: "CHEFOO PROSTRATED HIMSELF TO THE MAGISTRATE."]

The magistrate took no notice of their presence. He merely remarked in a
high key to his associates that foreigners were really demons, and that
he couldn't see why they had ever been allowed in the country. As to
himself, he had felt many times like setting up again, on his own
responsibility, the tablets which, prior to the treaty, had declared
that all foreigners were cutthroats and robbers, and should be killed on
sight.[2]

Each of these sentences Mr. Chefoo cheerfully translated to Mr. Reid.

"The old barbarian," declared Clarence. "I feel like giving him a
shaking."

The magistrate now deigned to become aware of their presence. "Who are
these who have dared to approach me?" he asked in a big, off-hand way,
but all the while he was nervously regarding Mr. Reid and Clarence.
Foreigners, he knew from experience, were not always the chicken-hearted
people they were declared to be.

The runners told him.

"Well, what is you name, and whence do your come?" was asked of Mr.
Reid.

The replies came readily.

"How old are you? Has your father gone and left you? and was he an
honorable man?"

To each of these, in turn, was given a cheerful response.

"Well, what are you doing in the country, anyhow? Do they know you are
away? Do you get a salary? How much is it?"

After all these queries and many more had been answered to the
magistrate's satisfaction, he deigned to hear the case that had been
brought before him. When each detail had been gone over again and again,
the magistrate put his head to one side, looked as wise as an owl for a
few moments, and then proceeded to deliver himself of his decision.

By paying five Japanese _yen_ (a _yen_ is one dollar), the man could be
left ashore; but none of the rest could depart until he, the magistrate,
visited the sampan and inspected its contents. He further added that he
might come that evening if business permitted. If it did not, he would
wait until morning. In the meantime they were to remain tied up where
they were under the supervision of the runners.

On Mr. Reid's protesting against the injustice of having to pay such an
amount for the mere privilege of putting a native ashore who had
concealed himself in his sampan, the magistrate retorted by assuring him
that he would then charge him, the missionary, that amount for having
come ashore himself without first having communicated with him, the
magistrate. Mr. Reid knew very well that such a proceeding was far from
legal, as he had his passport which he had shown, but at the same time
he felt it would be better for many reasons to pay the amount than to
contest the point.

Fortunately, Mr. Reid had provided himself with a few of these valuable
Japanese coins, which he carried on his person; otherwise he would have
been subjected to the further delay of sending to the sampan, as the
magistrate at once let it be understood that he could not depart until
the amount was in hand.

On their return to the sampan they found that the others too, had been
having trials in their absence. The curiosity of the crowd had now
become almost unendurable. Men, women, and children had even climbed
upon the sampan. They had inspected everything. The two girls had called
forth the deepest excitement and curiosity. It was their hair that
caused the most comment, especially Helen's; it was so soft and bright.
For Helen's hair, though her eyes were dark, was of a light chestnut
color. One woman had even gone so far as to offer a dozen eggs for a
piece of it. Then she wanted to handle it, but this Helen declined. The
woman's eyes and her manner made her nervous. But Dorothy, more assured
than Helen, took hers from its fastenings, shaking it about her
shoulders, then stood beyond reach of the outstretched hands, laughing
merrily at the expressions of countenance and the somewhat wild
gesticulations.

"Oh, Dorothy, how can you do that?" remonstrated Helen.

"If it gives the poor things any enjoyment, I don't mind," replied
Dorothy.

"But don't you see that the sight of it that way excites them the more?"

"Oh, it's good as a show," declared Joyce, almost shouting out in his
delight. "Don't you mind sister, Miss Dorothy."

Things were in this hubbub when Mr. Reid, Clarence, and the runners
appeared. Mr. Reid joined in the effort to induce the people to withdraw
from the sampan, but without success. Then the thought struck him that
he would appeal to the runners. It is safe to say he hadn't the least
conception of the result or, much as he wanted to get rid of the people,
he would have hesitated.

The runners at once charged pell-mell upon the surging crowd, shouting
and yelling as though they were seeking to stampede a herd of cattle.
Big hats, green coats, topknots, and wide trousers were soon jumbled
together in a series of kaleidoscopic flashes, then quiet reigned once
more around the sampan. The runners had done them this much good, if no
more.

The sun had almost disappeared behind the neighboring hills, and the
night, traveling fast in that region, would soon be upon them. Still the
magistrate had not appeared. They felt now that he would not come until
morning. They were much provoked. Mr. Kit-ze especially showed
displeasure. He had planned to reach the next town ere tying up for the
night. There had already been too much delay at Han-Kang. He felt
considerable compunction over this, and had been doing his best ever
since to make up for lost time, and now felt thoroughly exasperated over
this unnecessary detention. But there was no other course save to await
the magistrate's pleasure.

Supper eaten, with curious eyes all around watching their every
movement, Mr. Reid prepared for the evening service. "We will go
ashore," he said to Mr. Wilburn, "and take Mr. Chefoo. The others can
join in from the sampan."

They had no trouble to gather the people about them. Great was the
wonder that spread as the services proceeded. A hymn was sung, a prayer
made, a Bible lesson read, which Mr. Chefoo explained. Then with Mr.
Chefoo still as interpreter, Mr. Reid began to speak to them. His words
were about Jesus, our one ever-loving, steadfast friend. Exclamations of
surprise, then of interest, began to be heard. "Could it be possible,"
they asked each other, "that there was One in the world who could love
as this one loved? who could and did give his friendship 'without money
and without price'?"

As Mr. Reid ceased speaking, an old man approached him. Would the
honorable teacher tell him again the name of this wonderful Friend? When
told he kept repeating it over and over. Other touching incidents
occurred. Many questions were asked. When Mr. Reid lay down to sleep
that night, it was with the happy feeling that more than a passing
impression had been made upon some hearts, as it was also with the
determination that he would come again to break the bread of life to
these hungry souls.

Even when the crowd had left the sampan, scattered by the impetuosity of
the runners, Helen still felt nervous. The persistency with which the
women had pressed about Dorothy and herself, their incoherent words,
burning glances, and fierce gestures had wrought her up to a high pitch
of excitement. It was a long while ere she could go to sleep, even
though her father assured her that it was to the interest of the runners
to keep close watch upon the sampan. When at last Helen fell into
slumber, it was to be disturbed by unpleasant dreams. In the midst of
one of these she awakened with a start. She surely was conscious now,
and what a moment of horror it was! for a rough hand was feeling its way
along the meshes of her hair. A voice she knew from both tone and accent
was no friendly one, was muttering in a manner that made her heart
almost stop its beating.

FOOTNOTES:

[2] Before the treaty of Korea with the United States, while
yet it was known as the Hermit Nation, tablets bearing inscriptions
similar to that quoted by the magistrate were placed at intervals
throughout the country.




CHAPTER VI

A FRIENDLY HAIL


Helen's first impulse was to scream, but with a great effort she
controlled herself. Then, reaching up quickly, she grasped the hand
between both of her own, holding on to it tightly. Instantly there was a
frightened exclamation, and a violent movement on the other side of the
straw curtain almost against which Helen's head lay. The next moment,
the hand was wrenched away, and she heard a heavy splash in the water.
Peering out through the opening between the curtains, she saw two Korean
women moving away from the sampan. Thus she knew her midnight fright had
been caused not through any evil intention but from the exercise of pure
curiosity. They had but carried into effect the desire for a closer
inspection of her hair.

So soundly did the other occupants of the sampan sleep that none of them
were aroused by this incident, not even Dorothy. Thus it was an
astonishing piece of news to them when Helen told it on the following
morning.

Dorothy was overcome by admiration for Helen's coolness. "O Helen, are
you sure you didn't scream, not the least little bit? Oh, I never could
have taken it as you did," and she drew her breath quickly.

Others besides Dorothy had words of praise for Helen's fortitude. "Nine
girls out of ten would have gone into hysterics," declared Clarence.

"Put the percentage lower," warned Dorothy, shaking her fist at him in
well-feigned indignation.

"Well, seven out of ten then."

"Oh, that is much better."

It was long after breakfast when the magistrate condescended to appear.
Then he kept them waiting an hour or more through his insatiable
curiosity, for he must needs inspect everything in the boat, even to the
faggots and the chicken coop. But at last they were off. They had been
afraid that the man might attach himself to them again ere they left the
village. However, up to the time of pushing off, they had seen nothing
of him. He had been dropped on the way from the magistrate's the evening
before, and evidently that was the last of him.

As they went along now, Mr. Reid and Mr. Wilburn were discussing the
event, as well as the man's probable meaning when he had muttered the
words "Marble Pagoda." Both missionaries knew of the old Marble Pagoda
in Seoul, one of the curiosities of the place, though, strange to say,
not many seemed to care to go about it. The natives especially shunned
it, that is, a large percentage of them did. They declared that it was
filled with demons and haunted by all kinds of evil spirits. It stood in
one of the foulest parts of the city, just back of a narrow alley, and
all around it were clustered wretched-looking hovels. It was said to be
more than seven centuries old. It had been originally thirteen stories,
but during the Japanese invasion of three centuries before, three
stories had been taken off. Many of the chambers contained the richest
carvings, especially that known as the room of the Five Hundred
Disciples. That had the images of many of the Hindu divinities.

"I understand," said Mr. Wilburn, "that several bits of detached
carving, some of them representing deities, and others the various
stages of the progress of Buddha toward Nirvana, or the Buddhist heaven,
have been found in the old pagoda up to a time within recent years.
There is the story, not very old, of the young assistant of one of the
Buddhist priests at a monastery in the mountains, who nearly forfeited
his life by stealing one of the images that had been brought from the
pagoda, a very rare and valuable one, by the way. But he escaped by the
narrowest chance, though the priest hunted and hunted him for a long
time, and may be doing it yet, for all I know."

"What a fortunate thing for our missionary labors," remarked Mr. Reid,
"that Buddhism was long ago abolished throughout the kingdom, and only a
little colony of the priests allowed here and there in remote places."

"Ah, my brother, but there are the horrors of demon worship with which
to contend, and the stonelike barriers of ancestral worship to break
away. The former is as bad as Buddhism, where it has taken deep hold."

"As it has in our sampan man here," observed Mr. Reid with a sigh. "Oh,
if I could only see some impression made on him by our teachings, some
little inclination toward the truth as it is alone found in the pure
gospel of Jesus."

"Do not despair. He may turn to the better way in time. It seemed to me
during the services last evening that he listened more intently than I
had ever seen him. He seemed to be impressed too, by the questions that
were asked, especially by the earnest ones of the old man."

"Oh, but he is so persistent in his devotions to that wretched little
image he has. Only this morning I saw him fondling it. Sometimes I feel
like taking it from him and pitching it far out into the stream."

"Oh but, father," said Helen earnestly, now joining the conversation
because she felt that she must, "that would not be best, believe me."

"But how are we to teach them a better worship until we take their
miserable idols from them?"

"Oh, father, we mustn't tear down to build up. If a man were living in
an old and insecure house, we wouldn't pull it down over him, for fear
of the damage it would do. If we were his true benefactors, we would
simply invite him away from the old and into a better one."

"Well said!" declared Mr. Wilburn, his eyes shining. "You are a true
reasoner, Miss Helen."

"But so long as they have these horrid images that they believe can
counteract the evil effect of the demons, they will go on worshipping
them. We must get them away."

"But not by compulsion, father."

"How then, Helen?"

"By love." She reached out and took his hand as she said the words, and
began to pat it softly. Her lips trembled but her eyes met his bravely.

"Yes, my dear, yes, I know. When the heart is touched, love is the thing
then with which to win them. But you can't pelt a stone wall with
cotton, Helen, and hope to make any impression."

"But, my father, if cannon were used, what would be the result? Only
devastation. We can't drive these poor things away from their idols. We
must coax them."

"A woman's way, Helen. But, my daughter, you are doubtless right," he
said a moment later. "I get so provoked at their persistency, their
blind infatuation, I feel that I must use force, or at least warn them
of God's wrath if they persist in their idolatry."

"Tell them of God's love ever waiting to receive them, you mean,
father?"

"Yes, of God's love," repeated Mr. Wilburn, his eyes moistening as he
looked at Helen, "the warm sunlight, gentle yet powerful, the one agent
that, using no force, yet accomplishes what force cannot."

They made pleasant progress all that day and the next. The views of the
river and from the river grew more and more picturesque. They had now
passed beyond the range of hills on the highest point of which stood the
fortress of Nam Han, with its garrison of Korean soldiers. The river had
grown broader and its banks lower. They passed many beautiful islands
and had more than one experience with rapids. While navigating these,
Mr. Reid had insisted on the girls' going ashore attended by Mallard and
Mr. Wilburn. This they did, joining the sampan a mile or so above after
some rather exciting adventures with the natives. However, as there was
no worse spirit displayed than that of curiosity, they suffered more
annoyance than alarm.

Through a considerable part of that third afternoon they moved along in
sight of several small villages inhabited by woodcutters and charcoal
burners. At one of these Mr. Reid said he must stop, not only for the
night but for much of the next day, for it was one that had been brought
to the attention of his mission Board as an inviting field for the
establishment of a station.

At first the people were alarmed when they caught sight of the
strangers. But on the assurance of Mr. Chefoo and Mr. Kit-ze that all
were friends, they released their chickens and their queer-looking
little pigs, not much bigger than rabbits, which they had begun to put
in pens at the approach of the sampan. They listened eagerly to what the
missionaries had to say, pressed closely to them during the services,
and had many questions to ask, all of an earnest character.

The magistrate too, at this place, to whom Mr. Reid had brought letters,
treated them cordially and offered to assist him in any way he could.
The chief men were also friendly and assured the missionaries that if
they wanted to come and teach the new doctrine, they should have
respectful attention.

One thing in connection with their stay at the village caused special
happiness to Mr. Reid. Mr. Kit-ze had not only paid deep attention
during the services, but he had remained thoughtful for some time
thereafter. He had also come to both Mr. Reid and Mr. Wilburn with
questions.

They remained all the next day, which was Friday, and that night at the
village. Early the next morning the sampan was heading again up the
river.

"Where shall we spend the Sabbath?" asked Mr. Reid.

"At Yo-Ju, I think, exalted teacher," replied Mr. Kit-ze. "If we pass
the rapids without ill-luck, and push on steadily, we can reach there by
the fall of the night."

But they had trying times at the rapids, the longest and the most
dangerous yet encountered, so that the late afternoon found them a good
half-day's journey from Yo-Ju. They had now come to the mountains in
all their wildness and ruggedness. Silence fell upon the little party.
No word could be spoken amid all that awe-inspiring beauty. Then Mr.
Reid's voice broke the stillness as he repeated the ninety-seventh
Psalm, "The Lord reigneth."

Though the way was so wildly picturesque on either side, yet the river
at this place flowed peacefully along, washing about the shore of green
islets or lapping the steep banks with a gentle murmur.

Suddenly, from the midst of some overhanging vines near which they were
passing, there came a loud hail. Then a voice added in very good
English: "Pause, friends! O exalted teacher, do I see you once more?"

"Why, that voice sounds familiar," said Mr. Reid. "Head the sampan
toward the cliff, Mr. Kit-ze, and let us see what it means."

Mr. Kit-ze had no more than started to obey when a small flat boat came
out from the overhanging bank and made toward them. It had three
occupants, an elderly man who was sitting midway of it, and two younger
ones who were propelling it. The old man was bolt upright despite his
years, and made an interesting and picturesque figure with his
snow-white hair, which, as is altogether unusual in Koreans, was falling
about his shoulders, and with his partly civilized dress.

"Why, it is Mr. Ko!" cried Joyce.

"Yes," said Helen, a smile breaking over her face, "it is he, sure
enough. Oh, how glad I am!"

"Old friend," cried Mr. Reid delighted, "can it be that I greet you
again?"

"Yes, exalted master. Your old servant heard you were coming up the
river. So, lo, since the evening of yesterday he has been watching for
you."

[Illustration: "THE OLD MAN WAS BOLT UPRIGHT, DESPITE HIS YEARS."]

Mr. Reid now introduced Mr. Ko to Mr. Wilburn and the others. The old
Korean had lived for years at the capital. There he had known the
missionary and his family through three or four years. During two of
these he had lived at the mission as gate-keeper and errand man. Mr.
Reid had heard that he had inherited some property and had gone away
from Seoul.

The old man was quite a character. He had shown considerable devotion to
the missionary and his family, but Mr. Reid, with all his efforts in Mr.
Ko's behalf, had never been able to get the old man further than the
admission that the Jesus doctrine was a very fair sort of doctrine and,
if he only had the time, he would give himself over to the practice of
it.

Now the old man was delighted at seeing the missionary and his children
again. They must spend some time with him, he declared. Everything had
been prepared for them. He had even secured a cook who could give them
the food as they liked it. Oh, this was a wonderful man, indeed. Only
yesterday he had come. "The good spirits sent him," asserted Mr. Ko, "I
am certain they did."

Nothing would do the old man but that Helen, at least, must have a
glimpse of this wonderful cook the moment she reached the dwelling.

"There he is," said Mr. Ko, with the delight of a child, pointing
through an opening into the kitchen.

A tall figure was bending over the _ang-pak_, or great rice jar. At
sound of Mr. Ko's voice he raised his head and glanced around. It was
the stowaway of the sampan.




CHAPTER VII

AN ENTREATY


Helen uttered an exclamation, then moved toward Mr. Ko. He read the
expression of her face quickly.

"You know him?" he asked.

"I do not know him, but I have seen him. He was on the sampan with us
after we left Han-Kang."

"Why, he did not tell me that! He only said that he had seen the
honorable teacher and that he was coming. But no matter," continued Mr.
Ko, and looking encouragingly toward the man. "He did not tell me
because he had some reason not to. It is all right," he added
cheerfully. "You may go on with the cooking."

"I know him," he said, turning again to Helen. "He was my neighbor in
Seoul two years ago. He is a good sort of fellow, only there seems to be
something on his mind. I don't understand that. Never did."

A deep perplexity now came to Helen. She could not decide whether or not
to let the others know of the presence of the man at Mr. Ko's. She
finally reached the decision to tell her father and Clarence and maybe
Dorothy. There was, perhaps, after all, nothing wrong about the man. He
had really done nothing to arouse their suspicions, only remained silent
and sullen when he was questioned. She knew that her father believed
that he had merely been stealing a ride. The only mysterious thing about
him at present was his having so swiftly preceded them to Mr. Ko's. She
afterward learned that he had fallen in with another sampan almost as
soon as he had left them, and had worked his way up the river. While
they lingered at the villages he had traveled.

Though Mr. Ko had adopted some of the ways of civilization, he still ate
very much after the Korean fashion. Thus when they sat down to supper it
was at little round tables not more than a foot or a foot and a half
high. Instead of cloths, they were covered with sheets of glazed paper.
Rice was the principal diet. It was set in an earthenware bowl near the
center of each table. In addition there was a soup of beef and onions
thickened with barley, a batter bread made of flour and oil and a slight
sprinkling of sugar, chicken curry, eggs, and rice fritters. Mr. Ko also
had tea, a rarity for the rural districts of Korea.

As Mr. Ko, Mr. Kit-ze, and Mr. Chefoo ate, they made a great noise with
their mouths. This was done to show their appreciation of the viands,
for in Korea, the greater the noise made while eating, the more
forcefully defined is the compliment to the food.

Mr. Ko's house was much better than that of the average farmer. It was
built of poles, mud-daubed, but the walls of the principal rooms were
covered with paper. There were little windows of thick glazed paper
while the doors were set in frames of light bamboo. The sleeping
arrangements consisted principally of mats with blocks of wood for
pillows. In the winter the beds were made over the brick flues that ran
through the rooms connected with the great oven where the baking was
done. Thus, in winter, to sleep in a Korean house means to roast and
freeze by turns, for while the fire is kept up it is hot indeed, and
when it is allowed to go out then "cold as a stone" gives the literal
condition of a brick bed.

The house stood in a grove of mulberries, for to his other pursuits Mr.
Ko added that of silkworm raising. There were clumps too, of the walnut
and persimmon, with vines of the white and yellow clematis tangled amid
their branches. Here the birds built, and here they poured forth their
morning songs or chattered to their mates as they were going to bed at
night. In front were the fields of wheat and barley, and farther down,
in the very heart of the valley, the crops of rice. As it was near the
end of April, the barley was already in ear and beginning to take on its
russet coloring.

Mr. Ko, being an old bachelor, there were only men about the house. He
had a saying with reference to which Clarence teased Helen and Dorothy
rather unmercifully. It was to the effect that where there were women
there was sure to be trouble.

"Oh, but Mr. Ko likes girls!" asserted Helen. "You can't make me believe
otherwise, Master Clarence. He and I have been too long good friends."

"What was that I heard him say last night?" asked Dorothy, a mischievous
light in her eyes, "about sons and how they were like dragon's teeth in
the sides of their parents?"

Clarence looked rather sheepish at this quick turning of the tables on
himself, and in a moment or so dexterously changed the conversation.

On the following day, which was the Sabbath, two services were held in
Mr. Ko's mulberry grove. At the first not many were present, but by
afternoon scores had flocked to the place from the neighboring farms and
from the village. Curiosity was plainly depicted on all the faces, but
as Mr. Reid proceeded, it changed to eager attention on the part of
several. Mr. Chefoo made a good interpreter. He was both careful and
earnest. Already the sweet, simple truths the missionary taught were
beginning to make their appeal to his own heart. It was the old story of
Jesus and his sweet ministrations to men, his sympathy for them, his
understanding of their needs, the great, warm, deep love that took in
all, even the poorest and humblest.

"And this Jesus is the same now as then," continued the missionary. "He
is waiting to enter each heart and to possess it, to have our lives
drawn nearer to his own, to bestow upon us the sweet knowledge of that
companionship with him that may be ours through all the way."

The services were barely concluded when Mr. Kit-ze came to ask
questions. Gladness was in Mr. Reid's heart as he saw the moved,
wondering look upon the boatman's face. He wanted to know if this Jesus,
who could do so much for men, who wanted to be their friend, was very
rich and powerful? Could he bestow honor and wealth as well as
friendship?

Mr. Kit-ze was told that the provisions of honor and wealth did not
enter into Jesus' plans for the happiness of his people. He himself had
shown his condemnation of the grasping hand, the covetous heart, by
declaring that he who desired to be the greatest should be the least of
all and servant to all.

"But he gives that to us which is better than all the honor and riches
of earth," continued Mr. Reid; "he gives us contentment of life and
peace of heart. Would not you think these far better than money or land,
my friend?"

Mr. Kit-ze did not know. He had thought that it would indeed be a very
fine thing to possess land and cattle and so comfortable a home as that
of Mr. Ko.

This, then, had been the thought uppermost with Mr. Kit-ze when
contemplating the character of Jesus, the Divine Friend, and the thought
of the possible worldly elevation the friendship might bring him. The
missionary felt a deep pain at his heart as he realized whither Mr.
Kit-ze's thoughts had led him. But at the same time there was something
in his attitude to inspire hope. Mr. Kit-ze had been impressed. That
was plainly evident. His mind was in a deep whirl of thought. Other and
better things would surely be evolved from it in the end. Many times
during that day he made fervent petition for Mr. Kit-ze.

Mr. Kit-ze's perplexity increased as one thought after another came to
him. The exalted teacher had not answered as he had hoped. All was still
so uncertain, so unsatisfactory. Ah, now he knew what he would do! He
would go to the daughter of the honorable teacher, to her who had the
soft voice, the gentle ways, the kind heart. She could make it plain,
she would tell it so that it would reach his understanding.

Helen's heart leaped as Mr. Kit-ze asked her the questions. She could
see how deeply in earnest he was. Oh, could it be that he was at last
awakened, that he would search until he had found the truth, would
accept Jesus as the one faithful Friend? His first and second questions
aroused these thoughts; but the third, how it disturbed her, as it had
also disturbed her father. It was the same question about earthly honor
and wealth.

"Dear Mr. Kit-ze," said Helen, taking his hand, and at that moment he
felt that he would have done anything for her, "those who truly love
Jesus, who have taken him as their Friend, do not think of such things
in connection with what Jesus does for them. They know that whatever is
best for them he will send, that whatever of good gifts they will use
happily, he will bestow. But further than this they do not go, for, Mr.
Kit-ze, when once we have taken Jesus, we must trust him for everything.
We must not question or ask him for this thing or the other. Thus, Mr.
Kit-ze, if you had a worldly friend, one in whom you believed with all
the mind, in whom you trusted with all the heart, would you not
willingly follow that friend wherever he bade you go and take everything
from him as meant for your good?"

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Kit-ze, "oh, yes."

"Well, thus it is with Jesus. When we take him for our Friend, truly
take him, we do not require anything of him. We leave all that to him
and only trust him. He loves us. Oh, how he loves, Mr. Kit-ze! He is the
truest lover in all the world. Could he, or would he, then, do aught
else but what is best for the one beloved?"

"Oh, daughter of the exalted teacher," said the boatman, his voice
tremulous with some new-found emotion, "you have put that into Mr.
Kit-ze's heart which will make him think, think!" He went away with his
hand still pressed upon his heart and murmuring to himself.

Helen had told her father of the presence of the stowaway in Mr. Ko's
kitchen, and of her great surprise at finding him there.

"Oh, I suppose there isn't anything mysterious about it, Helen," her
father made answer; "nothing to be dreaded from him, I know. He looked
inoffensive enough, though sullen, and you remember we didn't find
anything on his person. I am only astonished at the rapidity with which
he has made his way up the river; but from what you have since learned
and have told me, that too is clear."

Helen was glad her father took the man's presence in this way. She
really felt sorry for the poor fellow. He had looked at her so
pathetically the evening before ere she left the kitchen with Mr. Ko,
and had murmured something in which she caught the words, "No harm, no
harm." His eyes had not then the burning look she had noticed when they
were fixed upon Mr. Kit-ze. Instead, they were soft and pleading.

She was ready now to tell Clarence and Dorothy. They had walked down to
the bluff for a view of the river and of the track of the setting sun as
it moved across the water like some golden-freighted craft.

Clarence, boylike, whistled his astonishment at the communication. "Why,
Helen, how did he ever manage to get here so far ahead of us?" he asked
at length. "It seems almost incredible."

"On a sampan, as I have told you Mr. Ko informed me. There isn't
anything so strange about that. What troubles me is the feeling that he
is following us."

"I think this time we followed him," observed Clarence trying to be a
little witty.

"But he was evidently awaiting us here."

"Then we'll ask him his business," declared Clarence.

[Illustration: "THEN, EXTENDING HIS HANDS, ENTREATED."]

"No, Clarence, no," entreated Helen. "That might be the worst thing. I
am sure he means no harm. Let us wait and see if he attempts to follow
us away from here. Then we might inquire into his conduct."

"I feel sorry for him," said Dorothy. "I can't help it, though he may
mean no good. He looked so pitiful when he was being dragged away to the
magistrate. He was frightened too, but he didn't have the appearance of
one who contemplated wrong-doing."

"I feel in that way myself," said Helen. "I----"

But ere she finished the sentence, they were attracted by the noise of a
step behind them. Turning, they saw the one whom they were discussing.
With a hasty movement he prostrated himself before them; then extending
his hands, entreated: "O friends, hear the story of poor Choi-So!"




CHAPTER VIII

THE STORY OF CHOI-SO


Such a pathetic story as it was for the most part! One that caused the
young people to listen to it with the deepest interest.

Choi-So's mother had died when he was very young, too young to remember
her. The woman who raised him had cruelly treated him. She had not only
half-starved him, but she had often severely beaten him. Choi-So had not
said it in so many words, but he gave his young hearers the impression
that this treatment had so dazed him that his head was not altogether
right. Sometimes he was like one in a mist, as he expressed it.

His father was a very religious man. He was a dreamer too, a bad
combination, since when one is constantly wandering away in thought,
many of the plainest duties that are allied to a religious profession
are apt to be neglected. He was a worker in straw. He made shoes and
ropes and mats, the latter beautifully woven. He received a fair price
for his work, and there was no reason why his child should have been
starved except that the money that ought to have gone to his nourishment
was appropriated to her own use by an unscrupulous woman while the
father wove his mats and dreamed.

Mr. Ang-su, Choi-So's father, had spent many years of his life in Japan.
There he had married Choi-So's mother. There too, he had acquired his
deep religious convictions. He was a devout Buddhist. As he sat and
dreamed his young son entered into many of these dreams, was, in truth,
the chief figure therein. Far better would it have been could he have
occupied even for half the length of time his father's practical
thought. Thus it came about that at eighteen Choi-So was sent to one of
the Buddhist monasteries in the mountains, there to be prepared for the
priesthood. Five years were spent in the dreary, monotonous routine that
made up his life there. So many times during each period of twenty-four
hours, from midnight till midnight again, he must hasten to the temple
at sound of drum or bell, there to prostrate himself on the stone floor
before the bow-kneed, brass-faced god, repeating, "_Namu Amit abul!_
_Namu Amit abul!_" (I put my trust in Buddha! I put my trust in Buddha!)
One hundred and eight times he did this without stopping, to an
accompaniment of bells, sometimes sounding soft and silvery, or again
ringing out with harsh, loud clangor.

He was also taught to take no life, not even that of a mosquito. If one
troubled him more than he could endure, the venerable abbot instructed
him that he was simply to get up and "shoo" it gently out of the room.
His fare was hard and unsatisfying, consisting all the year round of
rice and pressed seaweed, for no one who lived to the glory of Buddha
must touch meat. Sad to say, this life was just the one that appealed to
the melancholy boy. He had inherited much of his father's religious
concentration and dreaminess of manner. Instead of having the desire to
run away from this hard life, he daily applied himself the more
earnestly to the task of learning to please Buddha, of so living that he
might attain _Nirvana_! That was his highest desire.

One day, just at the close of his five years, he came upon Mr. Kit-ze
stranded upon the river bank, bruised and broken. He had had a desperate
struggle for life in the rapids. Three ribs were broken and an arm badly
injured. He had lost his cargo, and had very nearly lost his sampan;
but, injured though he was, he had managed to cling to the latter and to
get it safely to shore. However, it would need much in the way of
repairs ere it could be used again. Choi-So, in deep pity for the
wounded boatman, went for help, and had him assisted to the monastery.
Mr. Kit-ze was conducted through the great arched gateway and into the
reception hall. There the venerable abbot had come to him, and uttered
the words of welcome, "Peace be unto you," and had then bidden that he
be led away and his wounds treated.

For two weeks Mr. Kit-ze had remained at the monastery. He had
ingratiated himself into the favor of the priests. Especially had he won
the trust and goodwill of Choi-So. The young man was his devoted
attendant. The boatman was given many privileges. He was even permitted
to look through a small sliding panel upon the priests at their
devotions. This room, to which the monks were called so many times each
day to their prayers, began to hold a deep fascination for Mr. Kit-ze.
Its rich carvings, its many images, above all, the great bronze statue
of the Buddha with the various smaller ones grouped about it, so chained
his attention that for moments at a time he would continue to gaze as
though spellbound.

Choi-So had explained to him the mission of these smaller images. They
were to teach man the various stages through which he was to pass ere
Nirvana could be attained. Thus they were helps in the progress of life.
Any one of them could bring to mind what man hoped, what he inherited
through the strength and the faithfulness of Buddha. Much of this was
unintelligible to Mr. Kit-ze. He knew nothing of Buddha, nor cared to
know. But the images represented something that did appeal to him. This
much he understood, or at least thought he understood. Any one of them
brought good fortune to its possessor. That is the way he had read
Choi-So's explanation.

Mr. Kit-ze's mind was ripe for a suggestion of this kind. Among the
losses he had sustained through the catastrophe in the rapids was one he
felt more keenly than the others. Deeply superstitious, as is the
greater part of his race, Mr. Kit-ze believed devoutly in the efficacy
of certain charms. A grotesque figure he had carried on his person for
years had again and again helped him to elude the demons that waited for
him in the rapids. But for this his sampan would never have had the many
safe journeys through the dangerous parts of the river, and but for the
loss of this image during the earlier part of his late struggle in the
rapids, calamity would never have befallen. He must replace this charm,
this wonderful image of protection and helpfulness. What better could be
found than what was here represented in this chamber, sacred to the
great god before whom the priests prostrated themselves, and of whose
power they made such astonishing recitals? Had he not been informed of
the marvelous things that could be accomplished through the possession
of even one of the images, of the part each bore in the fortune of man?
He could not enter the chamber himself. He must work through Choi-So.

[Illustration: "HE WAS PERMITTED TO LOOK ... UPON THE PRIESTS AT THEIR
DEVOTIONS."]

Poor Choi-So was in a sore state of mind at that time. Again and again
he had felt, as he had described himself, like one walking in a mist.
His father had recently died. For weeks now he had remained unburied, a
custom very prevalent in Korea until such a funeral as the mourners
desire can be given. His savings had been squandered by the wife who had
so ill-treated Choi-So. There was nothing with which to lay the corpse
away as the dutiful son felt would be fitting. So he waited and waited,
praying and hoping and longing for the means to do honor to his father,
or else become a wretched, miserable son, despised of all who knew him.
It was then that Mr. Kit-ze tempted him, repeating the temptation until
poor Choi-So had finally yielded. The image was stolen, but, to Mr.
Kit-ze's shame, only a part of the price agreed upon had been paid. When
Choi-So had followed him, beseeching the remainder, it was but to be
cast off roughly. Another time he was threatened with the magistrate,
and with exposure. This last threat drove Choi-So back to the monastery.
But the theft had been discovered and traced to him. A companion priest
informed him in time for Choi-So to make his escape ere the terrible
punishment in store overtook him.

Since then he had been a wanderer. He knew that his brother priests had
sent one of their number in pursuit of him. His one object now was to
recover the image, return it, and suffer the consequences. He could
never be happy again until he had done it. He could never attain
_Nirvana_ until reparation had been made and the image placed once more
in the mystic circle about the Buddha. For three years now he had
wandered in search of Mr. Kit-ze, but as the boatman had moved away from
his old quarters at Seoul, poor Choi-So, for all his search, had never
laid eyes upon him until that day on the river bank at Han-Kang.

This story had been told in a broken way, and as Choi-So had but a small
knowledge of English and his youthful listeners far from a full one of
Korean, it was only by putting it together piece by piece, one supplying
a link here and another one there, that they finally understood him.

"Oh, friends," he entreated, holding out his hands pathetically to his
hearers, at the conclusion of his story, "pity the sorrows of poor
Choi-So. Help him to recover that which is the only thing that can bring
peace to him again!"

"The red _miriok_!" exclaimed Clarence, and looked at Helen
significantly.

"Yes," said Helen, "the red _miriok_. I had already felt that it had
something to do with this poor man's following us."

Then she told them of her impressions on the river bank as she had first
noted Choi-So and the manner in which his gaze had been riveted upon Mr.
Kit-ze and the red _miriok_. "Poor thing," she continued, her eyes fixed
pityingly upon Choi-So, "it is all very serious to him, and we can see
how he has suffered through it."

"But how can we help him?" asked Dorothy. Her sympathies too were deeply
aroused. "Mr. Kit-ze will never give up the image, I fear," she
continued.

"We might make him do it," said Clarence quickly, "or pay him to do it."

"No," said Helen emphatically; "we cannot. Neither will do."

"What then?" asked Clarence.

"We might win him to the better way," said Helen softly. "We might coax
him to give up this wretched little image for the sweeter things we
could help him to attain."

"What! Mr. Kit-ze?" cried Clarence incredulously. "Never! He is too
hardened."

"Clarence, how wrong to say that! Has not God's love shown its power to
reach even those more hardened than Mr. Kit-ze?"

"But what can we do for this poor fellow here?" repeated Dorothy.

Helen turned her eyes upon Choi-So. As she noted the lean and pallid
face, the deep-set eyes in which the light of fanaticism burned
steadily, courage, hope, both left her. "Oh, I am sure I don't know!"
she cried in despair.

Just at that moment Mallard was seen hastening down the path toward
them. From the manner in which he came they felt sure he was the bearer
of a message of some kind. "I have bad news," he said as he approached.

"Oh, what is it?" cried Helen, thinking instantly of her father.

"Do not be alarmed, cousin," he hastened to assure her. "It is nothing
so dreadful. There has been an accident. Mr. Chefoo slipped at a steep
place on the river bank, fell, and has broken his arm."




CHAPTER IX

A THEFT


Yes, Mr. Chefoo had broken his arm. It was too bad! for aside from the
pain and discomfort that it gave him, how were they to get on with the
sampan without him? It is true, it was not a very severe fracture, only
one of the smaller bones having been broken; but it would be at least
two weeks ere he could use it again. In the meantime, what was to be
done? Mr. Kit-ze could not manage the sampan alone. Some one must help
him pole as well as keep the boat within the proper channel. It would be
a very one-sided and unsatisfactory progress if the sampan were
propelled from only one end.

Mr. Ko thought of a half-dozen men who were at hand, but none were
reliable. It would be better without them than with them, especially as
there were rapids to be passed. Mr. Ko was very much disturbed over the
accident to Mr. Chefoo, because of its having occurred at his place. He
was sure a demon had caused it. It was the demon in the well, he finally
decided, since Mr. Chefoo had been at the well ere proceeding down the
path where the accident occurred. The demon must be appeased, he
declared, and forthwith proceeded to throw rice into the well. Now Mr.
Chefoo's arm would rapidly mend, he asserted.

Monday morning had come, and still there seemed no prospect of resuming
the journey to Yo Ju.

"We must get on," said Mr. Reid, "our time is limited. We must make some
arrangement for an assistant for Mr. Kit-ze."

Mr. Chefoo had now a high fever and was unable to sit up. It had been
decided to leave him with Mr. Ko until their return, which would be in
about three days, as they were not going much beyond Yo Ju.

In the midst of their perplexity Mr. Ko came to them with a beaming
face. He knew the very thing! Why had he not thought of it before? They
could take Mr. Choi-So. Now that his honorable guests were about to
depart, he, Mr. Ko, would not need his cook. Mr. Choi-So himself was
anxious to go along with them. He had approached Mr. Ko on the subject.
He was an excellent poleman, quick and careful. He had several times
assisted in carrying sampans up and down the river, twice for Mr. Ko
himself. Besides, he bore an excellent character. Mr. Ko knew him. He
had known his father too.

"I see no reason why we shouldn't take him," said Mr. Reid.

[Illustration: "HE FORTHWITH ... PROCEEDED TO THROW RICE INTO THE
WELL."]

But Mr. Wilburn opposed this. He had not liked the man's concealment of
himself in the sampan, neither had he been favorably impressed by his
appearance on that occasion. His sullen, hang-dog look had betokened
anything but innocence. He could have been after no good. Mr. Wilburn's
suspicions had been strengthened by the presence of Choi-So at Mr. Ko's.

Neither Mr. Reid nor Mr. Wilburn had learned the story of the red
_miriok_, or image of Buddha, as it ought more properly to be
designated. The young people, after consulting among themselves, had
decided to tell no one, at least not until they could agree on some
plan. Mr. Choi-So had given them his confidence. He evidently trusted
them and believed that they could help him. If he wanted the others to
know too, then he would tell them. He showed plainly that he feared Mr.
Wilburn and was not at ease with Mr. Reid. Helen and Clarence both felt
that they wanted their father to know, but they respected Mr. Choi-So's
feelings. Perhaps he would himself tell the missionary.

Things were in this unsatisfactory state when Mr. Choi-So's offer to
attend them as poleman was made known. The young people were pleased. It
was the very thing, they thought. It would give them more time to decide
upon some action, for the desire was now keen with each one to secure
the _miriok_ from Mr. Kit-ze and return it to Mr. Choi-So.

"The poor fellow will go demented if we do not," declared Clarence. "He
is half crazy on the subject, anyhow. We can at least try to give him
peace of mind."

"I wish we could give him something else," added Helen wistfully.

"But we can't," asserted Clarence; "at least not now. His mind is too
upset about the _miriok_. Besides, Mr. Kit-ze has really treated him
dishonestly. He ought to be made to give the image back to him. The poor
fellow has pinched and saved until he has the amount Mr. Kit-ze paid, so
he told us."

"Oh," said Helen, "if only I could talk to this poor Choi-So so that it
would go to his mind and then to his heart, how happy I should be! If
only I could show him that this image for which he is willing to
sacrifice life itself is only a wretched little piece of metal!"

"But he ought to carry it back," said Clarence.

"And run the chance of being thrown into a dungeon, fed on bread and
water, and kept there perhaps for years without ever hearing of a single
one of the sweet and precious things Jesus wants to do for him? Oh, it
is dreadful! He had better lose the _miriok_."

"And lose his mind with it? No, my sister, believe me that is not the
right way for poor Choi-So. Let us get the _miriok_ for him--that is, if
we can--and perhaps afterward we may induce him to return it by
messenger and listen to us."

Mr. Wilburn was finally induced, through Mr. Reid's clear and forceful
way of presenting the matter to him, to withdraw his opposition to
Choi-So's accompanying them as poleman; but not so Mr. Kit-ze. He had
been the last one to discover Choi-So's presence at Mr. Ko's, and this
had been only a short time before the stowaway's offer to take Mr.
Chefoo's place. The old boatman made quick and stormy objections. He
would not, he declared, permit such an idiot to handle a pole of his
sampan, for he was one who had no sense for moving his hands two ways at
once. If ever he had had any sense it was under his arm, for it
certainly had never been put into his head for the lack of room there.

But after a time Mr. Kit-ze grew cooler and seemed, to some extent, to
be ashamed of his outburst, especially as Helen had now drawn near to
him and taking his hand, was gazing at him reproachfully.

"Don't say that, Mr. Kit-ze," she said. "You don't really know that he
can't help you with the sampan, do you?" regarding him steadily. "Only
try him, won't you? Think what it means to us to be delayed here. Oh, we
must go on, and you must help us, Mr. Kit-ze, by your consent. Perhaps
it will only be to Yo Ju, as we may find another poleman there to suit
us."

Thus Helen pleaded, and little by little Mr. Kit-ze's heart relented,
his opposition relaxed, till he at length agreed to Choi-So's
accompanying them as far as Yo Ju. But the stipulations were that he was
not to move from his end of the sampan, and at night he was to leave
them.

"Mr. Kit-ze is afraid of him," commented Mr. Wilburn. "He can read the
rascal in him as plainly as I can."

"I hope it will be proved ere we part from our poleman, that both you
and Mr. Kit-ze are mistaken," said Mr. Reid earnestly. "I can't believe
that there is anything vicious in the man. He hasn't at all that
appearance to me. To my eye it is more an anxiety to get up the river
than anything else I can detect."

Mr. Ko was pleased that they had finally decided to take Mr. Choi-So.
"You won't regret it," he asserted. "He'll take you over the rapids
better than any one I know; and," he concluded, looking at Mr. Reid a
little peculiarly, "it's my opinion you won't dismiss him at Yo Ju. At
any rate, I'll have you a good poleman by the time you come back."

By ten o'clock they were ready to be off, having bidden good-bye to poor
Mr. Chefoo after having spoken all the consoling words to him they
could.

In honor of their departure, Mr. Ko had donned a spotless suit of white.
He had also sought to enhance his appearance by adding an immense pair
of spectacles, which he had purchased at considerable outlay, from an
old scholar. It mattered not that one lens was entirely lacking and the
other was so badly cracked that it was a question as to whether Mr. Ko
could use the vision of that eye with any satisfactory effect. All the
same, he stood upon the bank waving his fan majestically, his little
black eye gleaming from out the great round space where the lens ought
to have been, and all the time shouting out to them in Korean, "Come
back again to-morrow!" That meant, "Return as soon as you can."

Mr. Choi-So soon proved his right to all the good things Mr. Ko had
spoken of him. He was an excellent poleman, both alert and careful. He
helped engineer the boat safely through the rapids in a manner that
called forth grunts of approval from even Mr. Kit-ze.

About four o'clock in the afternoon they came in sight of Yo Ju. Besides
being a city of considerable size, it was noted as the birthplace of the
queen, and the king had caused two or three public structures to be
erected in her honor.

There were many sampans, junks, and other rude craft at anchor in front
of the city, and they had much difficulty in making their way through
them. But at length they reached the shore safely. They had not more
than tied up when an immense crowd began to gather about the sampan,
even wading out into the water. The crowd was not only curious, but
annoying. They handled the clothes and hair of our friends, and even
tried to run their hands over their faces. But to this not only protest
but resistance was offered.

Soon after reaching the bank, Mallard had climbed out on an end of the
sampan and steadied his camera for a snap of the city. He thought it a
splendid opportunity, as the sun was falling full upon the great gateway
and the queer looking buildings grouped near to it. He at once attracted
the attention of the crowd. Great curiosity was aroused as to his
intention, and soon men, women, and children were rushing toward him.
They clambered up the side of the sampan. They pressed about him until
there wasn't space to hold another foot. They poked fingers into eyes
and ears and nose; they shouted in glee as they caught the flash of the
lens in the instrument, and tried to pull it out. In consternation
Mallard endeavored first to protect himself, then his camera, and was
finally pushed into the water, saving the latter from both a smashing
and a wetting by the narrowest margin.

The same curiosity followed them as they went up into a gate tower for a
view of the city. The crowd pressed about them so they could barely
enter. Even after they began to ascend the stairs the curious throng
crowded about them so that the entire space was filled. When they
attempted to come down again, to their consternation they found they
could not. They had finally to make their way back from the outside, a
rough and somewhat dangerous undertaking. Fortunately neither was Joyce
nor were the two girls with them.

"This will never do," said Mr. Reid. "We must get away from this
terribly curious crowd, for the annoyance they give us will become more
than a burden after a while. Mr. Kit-ze, is there no place, not so far
away, where we can tie up without the prospect of having such curiosity
as this to endure?"

"Yes, honorable teacher, not so far away is the temple of the great
Dragon. There are overhanging trees, a quiet river bed, and not many
people who will come to gaze."

"Then let us go there by all means. To-morrow morning we'll find our
chance to enter the city."

They made their way out through the forest of river craft and up the
stream again. The great temple stood directly on the banks of the Han,
some little distance from the city. It was a beautiful spot,
picturesquely so, for in addition to the brick and stone pagodas that
gleamed through the trees, there was a number of small islands clustered
about, covered with low-growing verdure and spangled with the blossoms
of the pink and white azalea.

The temple in itself had much with which they could occupy their time.
Among other things was a quaint bell, in a perfect network of dragons,
said to be more than five hundred years old. But as the sun was near to
its setting as they came to anchor in a quiet spot along the banks, they
decided to do no exploring for that afternoon.

Mr. Kit-ze had spoken truly, "there were not many who came to gaze."
Though it was a kind of outlying village and had several hundred
inhabitants, yet only a few of them appeared on the arrival of the
sampan. Most seemed closely occupied with their pursuits. However, a
little group of women and children pressed near to the sampan, but no
one proved offensive except a mutang (sorceress), who, in the end, gave
them considerable trouble. She contended that she must be given two
_yen_ so as to decide for them whether or not the Dragon would be
pleased at their stay in the front of the temple. She finally fell to
one _yen_, then to six hundred "cash," but still our travelers paid no
attention to her.

She had an evil eye, Dorothy asserted, and further declared that she
knew she could not sleep that night for thinking of her.

Mr. Kit-ze showed even more impatience with her than the others. They
didn't need her divinations, he told her, for they had that with them
that could overcome any evil from the dragon. Then he injudiciously gave
her a view of the red _miriok_. How her keen little black eyes glowed as
she caught sight of it! and the sudden look she cast upon Mr. Kit-ze
made Helen, who was closely watching the scene, feel uneasy despite
herself.

Helen had been earnestly regarding Mr. Kit-ze through a large part of
that afternoon. There was that in his manner that at times disturbed
her, but again it seemed as though hope were creeping into her heart. He
had been absent-minded and dejected for much of the way, but now and
then he had aroused himself. At such times he had turned with keen
glances in the direction of Choi-So, studying every lineament of the
young man's face, it seemed to Helen. Always these searching looks were
bestowed upon Choi-So when he was not in turn regarding Mr. Kit-ze.
Helen was sure that better feelings were stirring at the heart of Mr.
Kit-ze on these occasions, for she could see how his eyes softened and
his lips moved nervously as he continued to gaze.

According to agreement Choi-So had been dismissed as night approached;
but Helen, who had been very observant, was sure he was not far away.
Indeed, while walking on the bank for exercise, she had caught sight of
his face from a small clump of bushes only a few steps from where she
was. She decided at once that she would not call attention to him. Her
heart was tender for him. She did not believe that he would do harm.
Soon silence settled down around the sampan, for its inmates had retired
to rest. Several hours of the night passed away. All were supposed to be
asleep except Mr. Kit-ze, whose watch it was. But, after a while, Mr.
Kit-ze too yielded to slumber.

Suddenly Helen awoke. It was with a strange, restless feeling. It seemed
to her that there had been an uneasy consciousness even in the midst of
her slumber. She tried to go sleep again, but could not.

"I think the air in here must be a little too close," Helen thought
after a few moments. She raised herself and leaned toward the heavy
curtain of straw. Then she rolled it partly upward, secured it to the
fastenings, and looked out. She was sleeping at the side of the sampan
next to the shore. All was quiet. She could see no one. Then she let her
eyes glance toward the bow of the boat. Mr. Kit-ze was huddled down in
his little boxlike apartment sound asleep.

"Oh," said Helen, "this will never do! I must call my father to awaken
him."

But even as she started to move toward her father's apartment, she
stopped again, almost transfixed. A hand had cautiously made its way up
the side of the sampan, and was now directing itself toward Mr. Kit-ze's
breast.




CHAPTER X

AN ARRESTED SACRIFICE


The hand moved nearer and nearer Mr. Kit-ze's breast; a moment more and
it had buried itself in the folds of his robe. Even as Helen continued
to gaze like one transfixed, ere yet she had the power to recover
herself, a face appeared above the hand. But it was not the face she had
expected to see--that of Mr. Choi-So. Instead, the moonlight showed her
clearly the repulsive countenance of the old _mutang_.

There are moments when sudden excitement leads us into a line of action
our cooler moments would by no means approve, when quick emotions bring
impulses that are followed without a pause for reasoning. Such a time
had now come to Helen. Mr. Kit-ze was being robbed. She could see that
plainly. The thief was the old _mutang_, and the object of her theft, it
almost instantly flashed into Helen's mind, was the red _miriok_. In
truth, even as the intuition came to her, she saw the hideous little
image in the woman's hand.

All Helen's energies were now bent toward a frustration of the old
woman's design of carrying away the _miriok_. She, Helen, must recover
it ere the _mutang_ got off with it. For if the _miriok_ disappeared,
how could she ever carry out her good intentions for either Mr. Kit-ze
or Choi-So? All would be frustrated. For would not Mr. Kit-ze be
violently angry? and would he not at once charge the theft to Choi-So?
And what might not happen? As to poor Choi-So, he would surely grow
demented when he found that the image had gone beyond his reach--oh, she
felt that he would!

In her sudden excitement, Helen never stopped for reasoning. Hence it
did not occur to her that her testimony would exonerate Choi-So with Mr.
Kit-ze, nor that, so far as the part relating to Choi-So was concerned
the old _mutang_ might be located and the stolen image recovered.

All that Helen then thought of was the recovery of the _miriok_. She
must get it and at once. Even now the woman was slipping away with it.
If she waited to arouse the others the old woman would be gone, for at
the first sounds of alarm, she would speed away like a hunted animal up
the bank. Helen knew the magic influence of money, especially of shining
_yen_. Had not the old woman shown her greed for them during the
afternoon? If the _miriok_ could be recovered, it would surely be
through the agency of the _yen_.

Both girls had lain down in the loose wrappers they wore for comfort
during a part of the day. In the pocket of hers Helen had her purse.
Besides a few smaller silver pieces there were in it three _yen_.

She leaned quickly over Dorothy; she placed her arm under her neck and
gently shook her, all the while whispering: "Get up quickly, dear, and
come with me. Don't speak out, don't question; only come and be quick!
quick!"

Fortunately, Dorothy was not hard to arouse when once she had been
touched. Like some even heavy sleepers whom a vigorous call cannot
awaken, the touch was like magic. In a second or so she was fully awake,
and gazing at Helen in deep wonder but alert.

"It is the red _miriok_!" said Helen to Dorothy again in a whisper. "The
old _mutang_ has come and stolen it from Mr. Kit-ze. He does not know
it, and there is no time to arouse him and the others. We must recover
it. If we are quick we can overtake her before she gets away. Then this
will accomplish the rest," she added, confidently holding up the purse.

The _mutang_ had now sprung down from the side of the sampan into which
she had crept, and was moving rapidly up the slight incline when Helen
and Dorothy in turn reached the bank. She saw them almost instantly and,
with a muffled cry, very much like the growl of an animal, increased her
speed.

"Stop!" said Helen in low tones, and as persuasively as she could.
"Stop! We only want to talk to you. We mean no harm."

But the old woman either did not understand them or she would not stop.
It was evidently the latter, for as much as she could, she quickened her
pace. But swift as she was, Helen and Dorothy were even swifter. They
were only a pace or two behind her as the top of the bank was reached.

It was not far from daylight. The signs of the approaching dawn had
already begun to appear along the eastern sky. At the brow of the bluff
and stretching away from the temple, was the village of rude mud huts,
with now and then a more pretentious one showing in their midst. There
was one principal street which ran along between the rows of huts. The
_mutang_ made for this with Helen and Dorothy close behind her.

"Stop!" entreated Helen again, and louder than before. "Oh, do stop! We
mean no harm. We only want to talk to you." But the more earnestly she
entreated, the more determined the old woman seemed to be to resist her,
to escape from her.

Helen had now drawn near enough to lay hold of the old woman's clothing,
but her grasp was violently shaken off, as the _mutang_ sprang away
again with renewed energy.

The two girls, intensely excited, stuck to the chase. All their thoughts
were concentrated upon it; their one desire to overtake the old woman
and to induce her, by offering _yen_ in exchange, to return the
_miriok_. Absorbed in these thoughts, this desire, they lost sight of
all else, especially of how every moment that they were getting nearer
and nearer to the woman they were going farther and farther away from
the sampan.

[Illustration: "'STOP!' ENTREATED HELEN!"]

"Oh," said Helen breathlessly, "we must overtake her! We must get her to
give us the _miriok_. We can't let her escape with it in this manner,
for what then could we do about poor Choi-So and Mr. Kit-ze?"

"Yes," replied Dorothy, "we must get it back. I am like you, Helen, I
can't bear to see the old woman get off with it. Oh, every time I think
of that poor man Choi-So and his melancholy, pleading eyes, I feel that
we must keep on, that we must overtake her and secure the image by some
means!"

"Why," said Helen suddenly, "I have forgotten to tell her about the
_yen_ I have for her." Then she began to call, holding up her purse:
"See! I have _yen_ for you. Stop and let me tell you about it."

At last she had used the magic words. At sound of them, twice repeated,
the _mutang_ slackened her pace. Then she turned her head. Encouraged by
these signs, Helen renewed her efforts.

They were now some distance into the village, and a half-mile or more
from the sampan. The red glow of the coming morning had fully dyed the
east. Already there were signs of stirring life in the huts about them.
Then too, the noise of running feet and of Helen's loudly spoken words
had attracted attention. One by one forms began to appear on the street.
Soon there was quite a group in the neighborhood of the pursued and
pursuers. By the time Helen had succeeded in gaining the old _mutang's_
interest, there were many curious spectators surrounding them.

"What is all this commotion about?" asked one man as he approached. Then
as he noted the _mutang_ he stopped respectfully. The old woman had now
paused in her running, and had turned toward Helen. "What were the
words? Say them again."

Helen repeated them.

"Why are you running after me in this way? Why do you offer me _yen_?"
she now asked angrily.

Helen told her as simply and as plainly as she could.

At this the old woman's eyes blazed more than ever. But she seemed to
take a second thought, and asked cautiously, "How many _yen_?"

"Two," replied Helen, closely watching her face.

The old woman shook her head vigorously, then began to stamp. "Too
little! too little!" she said. "Your head is under your arm to think I'd
be such an idiot!"

Then she set off again.

"Three!" called Helen desperately, for she knew this was the limit of
her resources so far as _yen_ were concerned.

"No! no!" shouted the old woman. "Too little! too little! Five or none."

As the last sentence was uttered, she turned to see its effect on Helen,
but as there was not the response she expected, she renewed her efforts
to get beyond their reach.

"Oh, if I only had my purse too!" said Dorothy. "But I gave it to my
brother yesterday just before we left Mr. Ko's."

In her despair Helen called after the old woman again and again to stop,
to turn back with them to the sampan, promising her the _yen_ she
desired if only she would do so, and further assuring her that no harm
should come to her, for Helen knew Mallard would gladly supply the
amount of _yen_ she lacked. She would tell him about the _miriok_. She
had been intending to do it the first favorable opportunity.

There was now quite a hubbub in the street, for in addition to Helen's
calls and Dorothy's added entreaties, there were the shrill cries of
defiance of the old _mutang_ herself. People had come running from all
directions, and their loudly voiced questions and exclamations added to
the noise. Among others there came five runners, the court officers of a
near-by _yangban_ (gentleman), who was serving as magistrate.

When they saw the two girls they began to cry out something against the
hated foreigners, and three of them at once took Helen and Dorothy into
custody, while the other two hastened away to capture the _mutang_. They
were too hardened to mind the old sorceress and her wiles. Moreover, the
court was no respecter of persons.

Helen and Dorothy were now much frightened and, for the first time,
began to realize what they had done in setting off on this mad chase
after the old _mutang_.

Helen was the first to recover herself. "I guess," she said, "it won't
be so dreadful. They won't dare hurt us. And soon our dear ones in the
sampan will come to the rescue, for surely we can get them word. Anyhow,
it won't be long ere they miss us, and they'll search the town over till
they find us."

A young man, whom Helen declared looked more honest than any of the
others, was soon engaged, in consideration of the offer of two of
Helen's smaller silver pieces, to carry the news of their predicament
to the sampan. But alas for Helen's confidence! After securing the
silver he had taken only about a dozen steps toward the river when,
overcome by curiosity to see the thing out, he turned back.

The _mutang_ had now been captured, but not until she had made such
vigorous resistance that not only the clothing of the runners had been
torn, but their faces also scratched.

In close company with the old _mutang_, and with the runners encircling
them so that there could be no chance of escape, and a leering, hooting
mob following them, the two girls were conducted along the street to the
house of the _yangban_.

"Oh, Dorothy," said Helen, "this is dreadful!" and, in her pain and
mortification, she sought to conceal as much of her face as she could
with her hands.

"Yes," said Dorothy, on the verge of tears. "Oh, Helen, it would have
been better, many times, to have let the _miriok_ go."

"No," said Helen, "no!"

It was now sunrise, but far too early for the magistrate. They were
informed that they must wait an hour or more.

Dorothy and Helen were finally permitted to enter the women's
apartments. They afterward learned that it was through the overwhelming
curiosity of the _yangban's_ chief wife. At the entrance they were laid
hold of by the serving-women and fairly dragged into the apartment.
There they had a trying experience which lasted nearly an hour. To them
it seemed five times that length. Their clothing, their faces, and their
hair in turn were inspected, and by each wife. They were bidden to take
off their shoes, their wrappers, and other wearing apparel, and each
wife in turn must try on each article. But the bulk of the curiosity was
directed toward Helen's hair. It seemed that the women would never tire
of handling it. They even wanted to cut it off, and but for Helen's
heroic efforts, aided by Dorothy's quick ingenuity, would have
succeeded.

At length they were summoned before the _yangban_, the wives, unable to
restrain their curiosity, following them to the room, where they sat
behind a screen.

The _yangban_, who was quite a young man, was lounging on his platform
and smoking an immense cigar. He was dressed in a pea-green silk robe
confined by a red girdle, and on each hand was a very showy
paste-diamond ring.

He had ordered the outer door to be thrown open, and had allowed as many
of the curious crowd to enter as could be accommodated within a certain
space. Near him stood his interpreter, for he had early been informed
that two of the accused were foreigners. After smoking awhile in
silence, he commanded the offenders to be brought before him for the
usual form of questions. He began with Helen. As she stepped a little
apart from the others, and nearer to the magistrate, in her earnestness
to tell him her story, she happened to raise her eyes for a moment and
let them rest upon the crowd gathered at her left. As she did so a
little muffled cry escaped her. There, standing almost in the front
line, and with his dark eyes fixed mournfully upon her, was Choi-So. How
had he come there? Afterward she learned that he had not been far away
from the sampan, and, sleeping very lightly because of the thoughts that
disturbed him, had been attracted by the sound of running feet and by
Helen's calls to the old woman. He had overtaken them just as they had
been arrested and started to the _yangban's_. He had heard Helen try to
tell one of the runners the cause of the trouble. He had gleaned just
enough to set him on fire with interest and excitement. For an instant
Choi-So's presence at the magistrate's court so disconcerted Helen that
she could not remember the words she had been on the point of uttering.
But soon more confidence returned, and she began bravely to tell her
story.

The magistrate listened patiently, but he was evidently full of
curiosity and deeply excited over the appearance of the two young girls.
Though he had seen the white foreigners on the streets of Seoul, yet he
had never before been brought in such contact with them. The fearless,
earnest manner of both girls impressed him and had much to do with his
decision.

The _mutang_ should return the image, he declared. He had not asked to
see it yet, and so was in no wise impressed by it. Helen and Dorothy had
proved to be of such tremendous interest that all minor objects had been
for the time obscured.

Yes, the _mutang_ should return the image, and the _yen_ that Helen had
offered should go to himself.

This decision was barely rendered when there came a communication from
his chief wife. He appeared to frown over it for a few moments, all the
while smoking hard. Then he further announced, and in the most laconic
manner, that Helen was to sacrifice her hair ere receiving the image.

A cry of dismay escaped Helen, while Dorothy, hot with indignation,
began to pour out her protests, first to the magistrate, then to Helen.

"It can't be done! You can't think of such a thing! Don't! _Don't!_"

"Oh, yes," said Helen, who had now grown strangely quiet and calm. "It
isn't such a dreadful sacrifice, dear. There are many far worse. I can
endure it. My hair will grow out again. Oh, surely it is worth this when
we remember what it means to get back the _miriok_!"

All the while she was speaking, though she was looking at Dorothy, yet
Helen saw those mournful eyes that she knew were fixed upon her from the
other side of the room.

"Take the scissors, Dorothy," she entreated. "I had forgotten until now
that I had my folding ones here in the little case in my pocket. Oh, it
will be so much better for you to do it, dear, for I couldn't bear any
of those rude hands to touch me."

Dorothy took the scissors, but still making vigorous protest.

"Do, Dorothy, _do_, my dear," pleaded Helen.

With trembling hand Dorothy grasped the rich, shining braid. The
scissors were raised; but ere the two gleaming blades could close on the
glossy strand, a voice cried out authoritatively:

"_Stop! Stop!_"

Helen and Dorothy raised their eyes simultaneously. It was Mr. Kit-ze.
He had pressed to the extreme limit of the line of spectators, and with
his hat gone, his clothing in wild disorder, his eyes gleaming like two
globes of fire, was gesticulating frantically to the magistrate.




CHAPTER XI

"ONE SOUL"


Mr. Kit-ze continued to gesticulate and to cry out to the magistrate,
although those near-by sought to restrain him. He even tried to pass the
barrier, but was each time pushed back by the guards.

The magistrate at first appeared not to notice him, but after a while,
overcome by his curiosity, he turned his head and called to Mr. Kit-ze:
"What do you want, fellow? I'll put you in the _cangue_[3] if you don't
cease that noise."

"A word!" cried Mr. Kit-ze. "A word with you, O most high and exalted!"

The magistrate eyed him a moment nonchalantly. Then he said to a runner:
"Bring him here."

Mr. Kit-ze approached and, falling upon his heels, prostrated himself
three times before the _yangban_, touching his forehead to the floor
each time.

As he arose, there fluttered from his fingers a strip of yellow ribbon,
and those who were near to him saw stamped upon it in red a dragon with
four wings and tongue extended.

"See!" said Mr. Kit-ze, as he held it before the magistrate. "See! O
renowned son of a renowned father. O most exalted, I claim the promise."

A look of intelligence began to dawn in the magistrate's eye. He looked
closely at the streamer of yellow ribbon. "Go on," he said to Mr.
Kit-ze. "Go on, but keep your head above your shoulders, so as to make
clear what you are trying to say."

"On a blessed day for your poor, miserable servant," began Mr. Kit-ze,
"your exalted person came down the Han in a craft that went to grief in
the rapids. Your polemen, losing their heads, deserted, and but for the
assistance of the unworthy being now speaking to you and his poleman,
there would have been neither craft nor cargo belonging to your exalted
self to enter Seoul. You gave me _yen_, but you gave me this too,"
holding the ribbon nearer as he spoke, "and your most eloquent tongue,
that always speaks straight, declared that if there was ever anything
this miserable wretch desired of you that could be granted, it should be
so."

"I remember," said the magistrate. "Go on."

"I ask you now, O renowned and honorable, to spare the hair of the
daughter of him who is known as the exalted teacher," and here Mr.
Kit-ze turned toward Helen, who, ever since his sudden appearance, had
been regarding him with a questioning if not puzzled wonder. How had he
come there, and where were the others? Had he alone learned of their
whereabouts, and how had it so happened?

"Take instead something of your wretched servant's," continued Mr.
Kit-ze to the magistrate, "and leave undisturbed the beautiful strands
that are a happiness to her whom they adorn and a joy in the eyes of
those who love her."

"Oh, Mr. Kit-ze," said Helen softly, a great, warm flood of feeling
sweeping over her heart as she comprehended what he had asked and noted
the deep earnestness in his eyes as he turned them upon her, "don't mind
about my hair; please don't. It won't be so dreadful to me to lose it.
Don't get yourself into trouble for my sake," and now she laid her hand
upon his shoulder in earnest pleading.

"I'll fear to suffer nothing if done for _you_, O daughter of the
honorable teacher." And now his eyes were misty with feeling as their
gaze lingered upon her.

"Come, is this all you want?" asked the magistrate impatiently and
evidently resenting the conversation now going on between Helen and Mr.
Kit-ze.

"Yes, it is all your wretched servant has to ask of you," replied Mr.
Kit-ze. "O most honorable," he began to plead, "spare, I entreat you,
the beautiful hair of her who is the daughter of the exalted teacher,
and nothing more will I ask of you. Nothing!"

"But the _miriok_, Mr. Kit-ze, the _miriok_?" said Helen in an undertone
and surprised that he had seemed to take no thought of it in his appeal
to the magistrate. For he surely had heard enough of the proceedings to
understand why she and Dorothy had been brought before the _yangban_.

"The _miriok_?" said Mr. Kit-ze softly and looking at her with eyes
whose confidence touched her beyond expression. "He will give you the
_miriok_. He has said it."

Then, as a sudden, strange expression came into his eyes, he glanced up
quickly and straight toward the line of spectators. "There is another,"
he said, his lips moving nervously, "and I must!" He paused; then she
heard him say again, "Oh, I must!"

Helen's heart leaped. Did he mean Mr. Choi-So? Had he seen him among the
spectators? It was more than likely that he had, as the latter stood
near to where Mr. Kit-ze was when he began to gesticulate to the
magistrate.

"I can't see why your request shouldn't be granted," said the magistrate
after a pause, and to Mr. Kit-ze; "especially as you have brought that
at sight of which no gentleman could break his word," and he pointed to
the streamer of yellow ribbon that Mr. Kit-ze still held. "I remember
the service. Now let me hear the request again."

Mr. Kit-ze repeated it with all the eloquence that heart and tongue
could bestow upon it.

"Take the image from the old woman and give it to the young foreigner,"
said the magistrate, "and there will be no cutting of her hair," he
added firmly.

As he uttered the last sentence, he threw his head up and glanced
somewhat defiantly at the screen behind which he knew his wives were
sitting. But the chief lady of his household was inexorable. Another
message came to him, and quickly. She would renounce her desire for all
of Helen's hair, but she must have some of it. A strand would now
suffice her.

"No," said Mr. Kit-ze, "no!" and moved nearer to Helen as though to
protect her. "It must not be!"

"I can spare a strand," said Helen soothingly to Mr. Kit-ze, "without
its ever showing where it has been cut."

Then she turned to Dorothy. "Help me undo the braids quickly, dear, and
get a part of one of them. You will know where to cut. Get a good-sized
piece," she added with a smile. "We must give her her curiosity's
worth."

As the braids were loosened and the strands swept in shining waves over
Helen's shoulders, falling below her waist, there was a chorus of quick
exclamations, followed by prolonged murmurs of astonishment. Only Mr.
Kit-ze groaned.

Urged by Helen, Dorothy severed the portion of hair, which was at once
conveyed to the _yangban's_ chief wife. They could hear the excited
expressions that sounded from behind the screen.

Mr. Kit-ze looked miserable. He stood with folded hands mournfully
regarding Helen. His eyes said plainly, though his lips did not, "I
tried to save it. If only you had let me!"

"Dear Mr. Kit-ze," said Helen, "how I do thank you for----"

But here she stopped, for the runner, who had at length succeeded, with
the assistance of another, in getting the _miriok_ from the old _mutang_
was now offering it to her. He was also demanding for the magistrate the
yen that had been mentioned.

Helen gave them to him, then reached for the _miriok_. But how her hand
trembled! A pang too struck her heart. How different was the feeling to
that with which she had thought she would receive the _miriok_ if only
she could succeed in recovering it! Though it had been stolen from Mr.
Kit-ze, yet her chief thought when pursuing the old _mutang_ had been of
poor Choi-So, and of how frantic he would be should the _miriok_ pass
away from him. Now the _miriok_ had been given back to her. She stood
there with it in her hand. But there too stood Mr. Kit-ze, and she felt,
if she did not see, his burning glance fixed upon the image in her
clasp. How much he had dared for her! For it is considered a serious
matter in Korea to interrupt a magistrate in the midst of his court.
With what earnestness and eloquence had he pleaded for her hair, seeming
to forget even the precious _miriok_ in his desire to save to her that
which he knew was pleasing to herself and a delight to her loved ones.
He had even used his one claim to the favor of the magistrate in her
behalf.

Yes, there stood Mr. Kit-ze with burning eyes regarding her, and there
too, not more than ten paces away, was Choi-So. Only the moment before
she had seen him, standing at almost the same spot and in almost the
same position, his eyes riveted upon her every movement. How singularly
quiet he had been! But it was, she felt, the quiet of concentrated
emotion--emotion that might at any moment break forth.

Oh, what was she to do? A fervent prayer winged its way upward as she
thought quickly, intently. Now of all times she must not make a mistake.
The peace of a soul, maybe in the end the peace of two souls, was at
stake. Suddenly her resolution was formed. She would give the _miriok_
to Mr. Kit-ze, then, when they were released from the court and were
away from all those inquisitive eyes, she would bravely plead with him
to return it to Choi-So. She would see Choi-So too. She would entreat
him to wait and to leave it to her.

"Mr. Kit-ze," she said, speaking slowly and trying to make each
expression plain to him, "I saw the old woman when she robbed you. I
called to Dorothy, for I knew I had not the time to awaken you and the
others, and we chased her. Oh, how anxious we were to get the _miriok_
for--for----"

But she could not tell him yet. Besides, the magistrate was through with
them, and was even now instructing the runners to conduct them away.

As they turned to leave the room, Helen gently pressed the _miriok_ into
Mr. Kit-ze's hands. "Take it," she said; "but later, when we get away
from here, I must tell you something."

His fingers closed about it nervously, and he paused for a moment as
though his emotion at receiving it again had overcome him. Then she
heard him murmur, "Wrong, wrong. I must give it back," and, ere she
could speak to him, he had moved hastily away.

Surprised, Helen, with a word to Dorothy, turned to follow him. After so
bravely coming to the rescue, was he going to abandon them in that
strange place to make their way back to the sampan alone?

"Stop, Mr. Kit-ze, stop!" entreated Helen.

"Oh, do wait for us, Mr. Kit-ze!" pleaded Dorothy.

He paid no heed to them, only kept on; and now Helen, for the first
time, realized whither he was going. It was straight toward Mr. Choi-So.
Her heart almost stopped beating. What would happen? She must follow him
and know. As she reached them, it was to see Mr. Kit-ze holding the
image toward Choi-So, and to hear his tremulously uttered words, "Sorry.
Sorry. It was wrong. She showed me."

Then he raised his head and added another word, but with almost pathetic
entreaty, "Go!"

"No," said Helen quickly, "no," and reached out her hand to detain Mr.
Choi-So, but too late.

With a muffled cry of joy that fell distinctly upon the ears of those
around him, Mr. Choi-So grasped the image, dropped something into Mr.
Kit-ze's hand and, turning, sprang away. He passed swiftly through the
crowd that opened at once to let him by, believing that he was running
in search of his mind, as they expressed it, and to their journey's end
the inmates of the sampan did not see nor hear of him again.

[Illustration: "'SORRY. SORRY. IT WAS WRONG! SHE SHOWED ME.'"]

"Oh, Mr. Kit-ze," said Helen, "I----"

But the sentence was never finished, for a joyous cry from Dorothy
arrested her in the act of speaking the words, and, at the same time,
she felt an arm slipped about her waist and heard a voice deep with
emotion saying, "My daughter, this has been dreadful for you."

It was her father, and there too, was Mallard. How rejoiced they were to
find her and Dorothy safe.

Soon the story of the search for them was told, and then Helen, for the
first time, had light on a subject that even in the midst of far more
engrossing things had caused her much wonder. This was as to how Mr.
Kit-ze had found his way to the court-room without the others.

The old boatman had slept on until sunrise. The other inmates too had
finished their morning naps, had performed their toilets, and were ready
for breakfast ere the disappearance of the two girls was discovered. It
was after repeated calls and numerous sarcastic remarks on Clarence's
part had failed either to bring them forth or to win even a retort from
them, that Mr. Reid had raised the curtain of their sleeping apartment
for an examination. But still their absence had not caused alarm, for
the first thought was that they might be walking on the bank near by.
However, as a search in that direction failed to discover them, a well
defined fear soon spread. In a short time it became evident that they
had either wandered away and become lost or had been abducted.

It was quickly arranged that Mr. Reid, Mr. Kit-ze, and Mallard should
set off in search for them, while Mr. Wilburn, Clarence, and Joyce
remained to take care of the sampan.

In the town they soon heard of the arrest; but as there were two
magistrates, there were, of course, two trails to follow, as no one they
met seemed to know before which one the girls had been carried. In the
eagerness of inquiry, Mr. Kit-ze became separated from Mr. Reid and
Mallard and, while they went on the wrong trail at first, he went on the
right one, arriving almost as soon as the court had begun.

There was a joyful reunion at the sampan. Only Mr. Kit-ze looked sad.
Helen watched for the first opportunity to speak to him when alone and
said: "Oh, Mr. Kit-ze, that was a good, brave thing you did. How glad it
has made me!"

The gloomy look began to leave his face. He turned toward her, a joy
awakening in his eyes. "I did it," he said, "because you told me."

"I?" asked Helen astonished. "Oh, no, Mr. Kit-ze, I never told you."

"Not with lips, but with eyes," declared Mr. Kit-ze. "Oh, when you
looked at me so, I knew I must. I felt it here," laying his hand with a
pathetic movement on his heart. "And when you talked to me, daughter of
the most honorable teacher, oh, it was like light coming, coming, that
is almost here."

"But how did you know that I knew about the _miriok_?" she asked, now
more astonished than ever.

"I heard him. The day on the bluff. Oh, how frightened poor Kit-ze, and
wretched, wretched!"

So he had heard Choi-So tell the story, and though he had hotly
protested against his accompanying them as poleman, all the time
vigorously declaring to himself that he would never give up the
_miriok_, yet the seeds of better things had taken root in his heart,
were even then beginning to push their tender shoots upward. And how
Helen's deep interest, her kindness to him, her evident concern, above
all, the sweet, earnest words she had spoken--how these had brought just
the nourishment to make the seed grow! The hand that no harsh force of
compulsion could ever have made give up the idol to which it clung had
brought it tremblingly to the feet of love, won by its all-conquering
power.

They turned back from the old temple above Yo-Ju after thoroughly
exploring it. They also spent a day in Yo-Ju, where Mr. Kit-ze
fortunately found a poleman whom he knew and in whom he had confidence.
They stopped at Mr. Ko's long enough to pick up Mr. Chefoo, whom they
found well on the road to recovery, and to leave with their old friend
some remembrances brought from Yo-Ju.

What a joy it was to Helen, on the homeward journey, to watch Mr. Kit-ze
coming more and more into the light.

It was one afternoon, just as they were passing along beneath the
beautifully verdured bluffs that indicate the nearness of the mountain
range which encircles Seoul, that Dorothy, slipping her arm with warm
pressure about Helen's waist, laid a book across Helen's knee with a
passage marked.

After a moment, Helen looked up, her eyes suffused with tears, for this
is what she had read:

     Perchance in heaven, some day, to me
       Some blessed saint will come and say:
     "All hail, beloved, but for thee
       My soul to death had fallen a prey";
     Then oh, what rapture in the thought
     One soul to glory to have brought.

[Illustration]

The End

FOOTNOTES:

[3] A wooden collar worn by Korean offenders against the law.




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